4th Point of Contact
by WaterMonkey
Summary: Born and bred in the American Military, Harper Hasagawa feels lost once she gives up her rank. Through a series of random events and some mutual friends, she becomes head of security for EXO. Many challenges lay before her, including the ones she left on the battlefield that decide they're not done with her yet. (Do Kyungsoo x Harper Hasagawa (OC)) Canon
1. Chapter 1

**Pairing:** Do Kyungsoo / Harper Hasagawa (OC)

 **Current Chapter Rating:** PG-13 (Violence)

 _The world was a drenched greyscale, tilted on its axis, hanging skewed on the scale of forever. The balance was off. I felt it, the rocks felt it, the sea felt it. We were lost in the shift, forgotten between the strands of this new fabric of universe we'd found ourselves in. I didn't fit in here, the island under my boots didn't piece together here, the ocean roiling before me would never be calm here. It was a tempest, crashing against the cliff, crashing against my heart, and the pieces left of it. We competed to see who was loudest in this new truth and I think I won. The whirlwind ripped out of me with enough force to shatter the canted rocks, to silence the ravaging sea. I was more than them, but I was less than nothing. There was no way to tell if the rain hitting my face was from the sea, from the sky, or from me. But it pounded into my skin, each drop a punch. Let them come! I wanted it, I wanted them to wash off this illusion, strip away this lie, because it wasn't real, it couldn't be._

" _Hello?" The voice said, and the ocean fractured-_

I woke with a jolt.

"Harper? Harper!" My mother was screaming as Fall Out Boy was blaring through the speakers of my phone.

Strange, I thought as I rolled out of bed. It had been at least six weeks since I'd dreamt of that night. Memories were funny things, but dreams were worse. I'd done well for the past few months, avoiding any unnecessary triggers, but who knows? Maybe it was because ' _Thnks fr th Mmrs'_ was playing on a loop and I still hadn't answered the phone.

"Harper! Will you turn that down already!" She yelled again, from downstairs.

"Okay, okay!" I hollered back, grabbing the iPhone from the dresser and swiping the green button without even looking to see who it was. "Hasagawa." I answered with a yawn. Enough time had passed that I no longer screened my calls, not that anyone but my mother called me anyway, but my heart always beat a little bit faster in those first few moments. Because, what if…

"Sergeant?"

I pulled the phone away from my face, gaping at the massive mistake I'd just made. The caller ID listed a

+81 country code, prefecture 98-Naha. "Sergeant? Are you there?"

"K-Kojima?" I muttered. The ghosts seemed to be out in full force today. I dropped to the edge of my bed. I didn't even have a bra on, I hadn't even brushed my teeth! It was too early for this!

" _Yokatta_! You finally answered! I've been calling all day." A morning of muffled Patrick Stump seemed a likely enough explanation for my mother's mood, the sound byte of my ringtone only playing the best part of the song, but still, it was like 2:00 am in Okinawa-I glanced at the clock on my nightstand and blanched in horrid realization: 13:15 blinked at me in big block numbers, and I practically threw my phone.

"Ohmygod! I'm late for work!" I screamed and flew around the room, grabbing pants, forgoing the bra, screwing the toothbrush.

"What? Sergeant? Hello?" Kojima's tiny voice squeaked from the speaker in my hand, but I ignored it. One boot after the other, I tumbled down the stairs. I heard mom in the kitchen and figured I was late enough to yell at her and not cause any more damage than I already had.

"Why didn't you wake me up!" I howled as I stormed through. She was unphased, chopping vegetables at the kitchen island like I howled all the time. I registered the knife, if only because I was trained to do so, but assumed she'd let me get fired first before she used it.

"What would I wake you up for?" She asked nonchalantly, decapitating a carrot that I envisioned my face on.

"Uhh, my job?" I hissed as I snatched a smoothie from the fridge and b-lined for the garage door.

"Oh, they called this morning."

My heels clicked together in a halt. My back was turned to her but I could tell she'd been waiting all day to have this conversation, just by the way she was massacring those vegetables. Without giving away my temper, I cracked my neck and backtracked to the other side of the kitchen island. We stood face to face and I tried my very best not to follow through with my reflex to disarm her first.

"You answered my phone?" I said through my teeth. She just shrugged unapologetically. If it wasn't bad enough that my mother was invading my privacy, she had absolutely no issues doing it. " _What did they say_?"

"They said don't bother." She wrinkled her nose as she said it, like it was only a matter of time, like it wasn't my third job this month. I let my head fall at her casual attitude. "Besides," she went on, scooping up her murder victims and throwing them in a stew pot, "you _have_ a job."

" _Moooooom_." I drowned in the syllable of her name. Surely people would understand if I just threw _her_ in the pot, right? She was nosey, and pushy, and constantly-

"Shouldn't you be taking that call?" She used her butcher knife to point at the still ticking call on the face of my cell phone, ignoring my wail.

"Shit." I muttered as I brought the phone back to front and center. Kojima wasn't speaking but the timer was clearly still going, he hadn't hung up.

" _Language_." Mom snipped at me, as I backed up from the counter.

"I mean _shoot_." I corrected snobbishly, but then stopped. "Wait, how did you know he was…?"

" _I'm looking forward to the future, but my eyesight is going bad and this crystal ball, it's always cloudy except for when you look into the past_ …" She started to sing and all I could do was shake my head.

When I was back in the safety of my room, I took a deep breath and put the phone back to my ear.

"Kojima?"

"Your mother has a lovely singing voice." He chimed and I made a face at the wall.

"That is not something I want to hear from you, Private. Now what do you want?" My Sergeant voice came out without my meaning to, and I flinched at the sound of it.

"Well, I have a situation." He continued easily, because well...he was used to it.

"I'm not in country, haven't been in-" I quickly started to deny whatever he was about to ask of me, but he cut me off.

"I'm not dumb, Sergeant." He snorted. "I talked to your mom, I know you're in California."

"Then you should already know that I can't help you." I fired back, wondering why I bothered to answer this call in the first place.

"My situation is in L.A., and I don't have anyone else to ask. Otherwise, I would have called them." I let that sink in for a moment, the bittersweet taste of clapback.

"Rude." Was all I could bring myself to murmur, but he heard me.

"No, you just made your stance very clear is all."

"What situation could you possibly have in L.A.?" I steered the conversation away from my 'stance' and back to whatever it was he wanted. "I thought you didn't know anyone in the U.S.."

"It concerns our mutual friend." The words sounded careful, even over the phone and they made me frown at myself in the mirror.

"Mutual?" To my knowledge, Kojima didn't have any friends in the U.S.. He was always much more concerned with his split heritage than anything us Caucasians had to offer.

"If you have the time…" He trailed off, and I figured he wasn't going to tell me anymore until I made some small amount of commitment. Glancing at the clock with a sigh, I plopped down on the bed and kicked my boots off.

"I guess I do now."

Two hours later, I found that my 5.11s still fit, which was a relief. My fingers laced up my combat boots as if it hadn't been six months since I had even looked at them. All in all, I spent most of the time after the call on my hair because, well...that's a thing. I pulled it up, let it down, pulled it up, and let it down again. No matter what I did, it always morphed into a standard issue bun by magic, like the strands knew no other shape. With a frustrated sigh I raked my fingers through it, surrendering to the down look. It would be a matted mess and get constantly stuck to my chapstick, but at least it wouldn't look uniform.

I proceeded downstairs quietly, hoping she wouldn't stop me, but knowing that she would. She'd moved on to a different part of the meal she was preparing as I passed by, quiet and small. She saw me meander through and paused long enough for us to lock eyes. Then I watched as she took in my gear: the boots, the tactical pants, the pack, and the rods.

"Off to work then?" She asked, her voice a cheery imitation of what I knew to be going on under the surface. Her expression was grave, despite her pleasant question. It was the face she used to make before my deployments; the disconnect of what she was feeling and what she knew was best for me. She hated when I went to battle, it reminded her too much of my dad. She still believed, even when I didn't, that I was a soldier through and through. But this wasn't exactly a sanctioned mission.

"Will you bail me out?" I asked sarcastically, hoping to lighten the mood, but she responded with:

"Absolutely," without hesitation. I cleared my throat, not knowing what else to say, but her eyes were insistent.

"Well, I'm grabbing a train." I said clumsily and started for the door.

"To where?" She asked and I winced.

"...South." I hated this part; the part where she wasn't allowed to know anything; the part where we left her over and over again without telling her where we were going...Dad and me. When I looked back to see how bad the damage was, her face was surprisingly resolute. She looked how she always looked: proud, strong, like the destroyer of vegetables she was, and worried... "Don't wait up." I said softly before escaping out the door.

Regardless of every other wrongdoing, it was a small consolation that their company, SM, at least splurged for Korean TV in the dressing rooms. That, Kyungsoo was thankful for. It gave he and the other members a small sense of comfort, knowing that the EXO-L's at least knew what was going on. And, he supposed, everyone else did too. Every news channel he flipped past—MBCTV, SBS, KNN, KBS1—they all detailed their sudden and firey...predicament.

' _EXO HELD HOSTAGE' 'EXO REFUSES TO PERFORM' 'EXO'S BAEKHYUN DEATH IN THE FAMILY' 'EXO - INDUSTRY BEFORE BLOOD?' 'EXO!' 'EXO!' 'EXO!'_

Anyone who was anyone was talking about them. It was probably the most headlines they'd made since EXO broke the Daesang record last year, and what were they doing about it?

 _Moping_.

Yixing, Minseok, and Jongdae were off in their own little EXO-M corner, while Chanyeol and Sehun were quietly lamenting over the fact that their cell phones had been taken away. Jongin and Suho were on the couch with Kyungsoo, in spirit at least. Because despite all their pretending for the other's sake, every member was poised towards the bathroom door, straining their ears for some small indication that there was life inside. That's where he was, Baekhyun. He'd holed up in there as soon as they got here and hadn't come out. He needed the privacy, they understood that as brothers, but some of them had to pee. The chaos of yesterday was definitely preferable to the boredom they faced today. After being escorted from their hotel rooms this morning, they'd been on lock down at the convention center, living off of expensive water and little bags of peanuts.

There was a knock at the door, which was as insulting as it was polite, seeing as they had no control over who came in or out. A management team of three from SM America came in with bright smiles and a tray full of lunch, like that was going to fix anything.

"Gentlemen!" The head manager announced brightly. "How are we feeling today?" He opened his arms wide as if to hug them all at the same time and Kyungsoo wondered what Suho's policy on punching employees was. The first and only thing Kyungsoo could stare at were the man's giant teeth: dazzling and neon. His dark skin made them even brighter in contrast and the twinkle nearly blinded everyone in the room. When no one else stepped up to answer, Kyungsoo felt more than heard a small sigh from Junmyeon.

"We are feeling the same as we were yesterday, when you refused to let us leave." His voice unexpectedly neutral.

"Oh, boys! I'm so sorry to hear that!" The man said and Kyungsoo got the impression that he was not sorry at all. "I promise we'll get you home as soon as we can. You just have to...finish the tour first!" He let out a big fake laugh that no one else bothered to join. He acted like the commentator from 'The Hunger Games'; an over the top, charismatic jackass...and Kyungsoo couldn't even remember his name. Junmyeon must have seen the ire emanating, because he stepped around the couch, putting himself in his members crosshairs.

"Please try to understand, there has been a death in our family. It is _disrespectful_ to keep us here." His words were sharp but they bounced right off the manager's teeth like they were shields.

"Oh, Myeonie, I know it hurts, but people die all the time!" He put both hands on Suho's shoulders and Kyungsoo thought he was finally going to see his hyung in action by how his back went rigid. "And this is show business kid...it must go on." With that, all the false bravado fell from his face as he turned to the other managers. "Keep them here until sound check and if they're not on that stage by six o'clock, I'll have more than just your job." Then the three of them stalked out, but Kyungsoo caught a glimpse of one staying behind to stand outside their door.

"I don't think I've ever wanted to punch someone that badly before." Jongin mumbled from the couch. He was a literal teddy bear, his hands were filled with cotton and his heart full of love. He would never hurt anybody-except maybe that guy.

Suho stood firmly, working the muscles in his back. Kyungsoo could tell he was trying very hard to keep his cool for their sakes, but...they all knew their leader didn't know what to do. It was evident in the way he slowly turned and sat back down on the couch, avoiding everyone's eye.

"Hyung…" Sehun murmured and the atmosphere shifted from bad to worse.

"Does anyone…" Junmyeon covered his face for a moment before finally giving in and looking at them, "does anyone have any ideas?"

"Yeah: we leave." Jongdae threw his plan in the pot. "We're acting like their prisoners, but they can't keep us here against our will."

"They can though," Minseok disagreed, "they can and they are."

"But what happens when we go home? Do they expect us not to say anything?" Sehun asked.

"What are we going to say?" Suho responded miserably. "That we broke our contracts, but it wasn't our fault?"

"This isn't fair, hyung!" Jongin started, ripping his teddy bear heart to shreds.

"We signed up knowing it wouldn't be." Suho replied, and Kyungsoo raised an eyebrow at him. He wasn't usually so dissenting.

"To expect the world to be fair is as foolish as thinking a bull won't charge you because you don't eat meat." Everyone stopped what they were doing and turned to Yixing who was sitting quietly in the corner.

"I hate his quotes…" Chanyeol dropped his face into his hands off to the side, "they're always so damn applicable."

"And yet he called Baek a 'penis' once." Minseok snorted, and just like that, some of the tension melted away.

After a respite, Suho seemed more level headed and like himself.

"So, you guys tell me, do we go on stage or do we end it here?"

"Those are our only options?" Sehun asked sadly. Out of them all, the maknae's would be the most if it all went south. It was the hyungs that Kyungsoo worried about most.

"Even if we decided to perform," Chanyeol said, "there's no way we can get him on stage." He jutted his chin towards the bathroom door that was more like the elephant in the room. "He's devastated. We all are. Mama Byun was…" Yeol's eyes started to water and he choked up.

"She was the nicest woman in the whole world." Jongdae piped up, going over and putting a comforting hand on the Chanyeol's shoulder. It would have been funny if it weren't so bittersweet, simply because Yeol was so much taller than the rest of them. The reason for all their troubles at the moment, was because Baekhyun's mother had suddenly passed away. His parents didn't tell him that she'd been sick, thinking it was nothing and not wanting to distract him from his world tour, until it was too late.

"Which is funny considering Baekhyun is her carbon copy." Minseok joked, and small sad smiles bloomed around the room.

"Do you remember when it was Baek's turn to host _Chuseok_ , and mother forgot to buy black beans for the _Songpyeon_ , so she used coffee beans instead?" Jongin asked and a collective moan rose from the room. Kyungsoo could have cried all over again remembering the tragically bitter meal. Mama Byun had been so proud though! Proud because everyone knew she couldn't cook, but she'd given the maid the day off because it was _Chuseok_ , and she did her absolute best with what she had. By the end of the night, there wasn't a crumb left, because EXO loved her and there was no way they were going to spit out her food. Kyungsoo even recalled Sehun crying as he ate, bite after bite.

"What about that time right before we debuted that she broke into the dorm and demanded to meet all of us?" Minseok said, and then all together they announced,

" _With a chopstick_!"

"And when we all had to stay at Baek's house for a week because of his eye, and she let us eat all the foods were not allowed to have." Jongdae beamed, which made Sehun groan.

"God, I miss ramen."

The memories kept coming and the anxiety of their lock down eased. This was the best version of his group, Kyungsoo thought. When all his members were laughing and no deadlines mattered, because they were together. They were telling stories about the people they loved and they had each other's backs. He missed this, missed the ease of it.

It wasn't until there was a bump on the dressing room door and the spell was broken, that they remembered they were stuck there, trapped by their own agency and destined to fail. It was all going to end tonight, one way or the other and Kyungsoo soured, glancing at the bathroom again.

Still no sound.

There was another bump from the dressing room door and then another. He was starting to get annoyed. What could that manager possibly be doing? It was bad enough that he was standing guard, but did he have to be such a-

The door exploded.


	2. Chapter 2

**Pairing:** Do Kyungsoo / Harper Hasagawa (OC)

 **Current Chapter Rating:** PG-13 (Violence)

She announced herself in a firestorm of splinters and plaster, like she was crossing the gate of hell themselves. Kai screamed, and everyone else jumped up to make way for this Athena as she stalked in. Suho was on his feet in an instant, but Kyungsoo froze the second he turned around.

She wore dark jeans tucked into combat boots, with a black shirt and pack. Her auburn hair was twisted up into a braid that looked more like a crown, and her gaze-the one he remembered being soaked in sea water and crashing waves-was zeroed in on him.

"It's you…" Tumbled from his mouth as she took two long strides forward. He held his breath as she reached for him, not sure she wouldn't disappear if he moved. She seemed bigger than he remembered; taller, stronger, livelier. Not to mention she just kicked through the door like she was kicking off a blanket. But when her fingers gripped his shirt front, he knew she was real...which somehow made it even worse.

"Come on." She said quietly. Even as soft as it was, it was absolutely a command. Kyungsoo registered the English, but it took him the two long strides back to the door to find the words.

"W-Wait…" He grabbed her fist in his shirt and planted his feet. She jerked back with a grunt at his sudden stop, but then just pulled again, harder.

"Do you want to leave or not?" She snapped.

"보안!" Suho called for security, thinking she was some mercenary sasaeng fan. She huffed when she realized what he was saying, tacking on an extravagant eye roll before pointing to the mass between her feet.

"He's taking a nap." As she tried to pull Kyungsoo through the door she'd demolished, he saw the body of the manager who stayed behind sprawled in the hallway. Panic bubbled up in his throat as she tugged on him again, but he grabbed the door frame with both hands.

"No!"

What they'd been doing the whole time, Kyungsoo had no idea, but the members quickly came to his rescue and threw themselves in. He was never going to forgive them for how long it took, but better late than never. Chanyeol roped his long arms around the girl, while Minseok grabbed her wrist and broke her hold on Kyungsoo. Kai pulled him back into the room, but even with their tag-teaming, Yeol was no Mr. Fantastic. All it took was one strong fist to the groin to drop him on top of the manager, and she was free.

She took a deep breath, angrily spit a stray piece of hair out of her mouth, and then stepped over the bodies of her victims. Everyone backed up with each step she took forward, making for the most unromantic dance in the history of kidnappings. When she'd made it halfway into the room but no closer to them, she let out something akin to a howl and stomped her foot. She seriously stomped her foot like a child throwing a tantrum.

"Kyungsoo!" She growled, and everyone shrank. "I am breaking a lot of laws right now, so if you want out of here, you have to come with me...right now!" She threw down the gauntlet, and he was mildly surprised it wasn't an actual one. She seemed the type to have random weapons lying around...just in case. That was it: she seemed like a 'just in case' type of girl. Just in case she had to storm a compound, just in case she had to rescue somebody, just in case she had to rescue nine somebodies.

"I'm not leaving without them." Kyungsoo found his voice, but was still holding Kai's hand behind his back, because she was...scary. Her eyebrows shot up at what he said and let out a bitter laugh.

"There's no way I can get you all out! No, my orders are you and only you-" She was shaking her head, acting as if his statement had been some sort of joke, but Suho interrupted, making her tear her attention away from Kyungsoo to his leader.

"If you're going to take anyone, please take Baekhyun." Suho begged. The thought hadn't even occurred to Kyungsoo, but maybe that's why Junmyeon was the leader and not him.

"Bacon?" She asked skeptically.

"Baekhyun." Suho corrected, and stepped towards the bathroom door, leading her gaze. "His mother is the reason we're...here." He shrugged apologetically, not wanting to blame Mama Byun for the demise of EXO, but not having any other explanation. The girl glanced between Suho and the door he pointed to with a question on her face.

"I suppose he's in there?"

"Yes."

"And you're not going to try and trap me in there when I turn around?" She half joked, half threatened. Suho shook his head and stepped back, giving her a wide berth. She stalked over and before anyone could open it for her, kicked the door in. It was dark inside, and across from the opening, the shell of Baekhyun sat against the wall. "Jesus." She muttered and Kyungsoo caught an expression on her face which looked suspiciously like melancholy. "He's in no condition for exfil."

"For what?" Suho asked, but she ignored him. She stepped quietly into the cave and squatted down before Baek. If he saw her, or anything for that matter, he gave no indication. From outside, Kyungsoo heard her murmur something to him, although he couldn't hear. He wasn't about to tell her that Baekhyun couldn't speak English. In fact, it was only he and Suho that could. The other members had a basic working knowledge of the language, but the type of conversation she was wanting to have was not going to happen with broken charades.

After a moment, she came back out with a different sort of feel to her. She took a good look at each of them before settling back with Kyungsoo.

"Can you carry him?" She asked, dead serious.

"I don't know..." he stuttered. Suho quickly translated the question for the other members, and to his surprise, Sehun instantly stepped up and nodded.

"Can you carry him and run for your life?" She demanded, but Sehun didn't back down. He stood a full two heads taller than her, but she was running the show.

"Yes." He said, and she went with it.

"Change of plans than: you, pick up Bacon." She pointed to Sehun who was already in the bathroom. "You, find the passports." She pointed to Suho. "You, grab the guard, put him in the closet." She told Minseok. "You, pick up the broken one if he's with us." She told Jongdae and gestured to Chanyeol who was slowly picking himself up anyway.

And then she braced herself against the wall, saying "I'll get us the fuck out."

 **12 Hours Later**

The handcuffs clinked together when I tugged at the joint welded to the table. Never in my life, I grumbled. Never in my life had I imagined I'd be in an interrogation room on this side of the glass! I mean, it wasn't my first time at the table, but I was usually on the other side!

The room was stereotypically sparse; just the silver chrome table and chairs, and the giant window in front of me that I was pretty sure hid at least four LAPD detectives. I suppose that's what you get when you storm the airport. When it felt like I was good and marinated, one of those brooding detectives came in to see if I was ready to roast.

"What time is it?" I asked first as he sat down across from me. He was a heavier set black man who looked like he was thoroughly done with everything. He made that jerky motion where he pulls up his sleeve to look at his watch by punching the air. Once he looked, his eyes slid back to me boredly.

"Just past six."

I made a face, mentally counting down the hours it would have taken the boys to land. "Why? You got somewhere to be? Some other," he dropped a manila folder on the table with a grunt, flipping it open to reveal the mug shot they'd taken of me and the 'accident' report, "suits to throw down with?"

"That was a simple misunderstanding." I brushed off, clinking the cuffs again.

"Oh that's all it was?" He gasped sarcastically. "Well, we should just let you go then!"

We stared at each other for a minute, he obviously wanting to skip the bullshit, and me not wanting to go to jail...so we both just sighed.

"Now," he lulled and flipped the report to the next page, "walk me through it."

"Which part?"

He gave me a hard look, but I was being sincere. Was I supposed to start at the beginning? How much did he already know?

"The part where you kidnapped nine Korean nationals-" He started to list.

"Is it kidnapping if they ask for it?" I muttered.

"-commandeered a City of Los Angeles bus-"

"I would hardly call that commandeering."

"-and shot up the international terminal at LAX."

"I didn't fire a single shot." I snapped, but the damage was done.

"Needless to say young lady, you've disturbed the peace." He settled into his seat as I yelled,

"I only did what was asked of me. Their agency was holding them hostage! You should go interrogate them instead!"

"Tell me about that." He guided and I grumbled at how he was better at this than I was. When I was making this plan in my head, interrogation had not been a part of it. Then again, I was really flying by the seat of my pants on this one. Was it okay to tell him the truth? It wasn't like lying was going to get me anywhere, they had the whole adventure on camera. They were only missing the why.

"Before that," I decided, "two things."

"Oh this ought to be good." He rolled his eyes.

"First: these." I pulled on my cuffs. He let out a big belly laugh, like I'd made a great joke.

"Ha! You think I'm gonna give you range of motion when you took out ten guards at the Forum, and fourteen more at LAX?"

"Let's be clear here…?" I started but stumbled when I came up blank on his name.

"Hemingway." He gave.

"Hemingway, let's be clear: I didn't instigate anything." I retorted. "If they had let those boys go home on their own, there would have been no need for me."

"Well I hope number two is as funny as number one." He chuckled.

"I need to know if the plane made it to Seoul." That soured him, and he huffed instead of answering. I would have ground by teeth if it would have been any help, but there was nothing for me to do at this point. What's done was done, and really? What had I expected? Nothing, because I never bothered to think passed getting them out.

I swear I used to be better than this.

When he refused to answer, I figured I'd goad him into it.

"Oh come on," I hounded, "I know you know."

"What's it matter if it did or not?" He challenged.

"What's it matter?" I scoffed. "It was the whole point."

"The whole point...was to get those boys home?" He summarized, and I felt like banging my head against the table.

"Yes, obviously."

"They hired you to get them home?" He jabbed next and I floundered.

"Not exactly…"

"Then exactly how did you know they needed saving?" We'd circled back in our waltz of questions to the beginning.

"I'll tell you as soon as you tell me if they made it or not." We slipped into another staring contest, only broken when he glanced over his shoulder at the window behind him. A second later, a crackling intercom came on and announced,

" _Singapore Airlines, Flight 7 will land at Incheon International within the hour."_

"And you have no jurisdiction, so you'll leave them be?" I confirmed, staring hard at the window. My face stared back, bruised and busted, but there was a life there that hadn't been seen in months. It chilled me just to look at it.

"We'll leave them be." Hemingway nodded, and my gut believed him. "They're too high profile for us to touch anyway." He went on as I settled back into my chair. "So…?" He gestured for me to start my story, but I pulled hard at the handcuffs. With a heavy sigh and an eye roll that could move mountains, he stood, knees popping. He produced a small set of cuff keys from his pocket and came around to my side of the table to undo my restraints.

The second I was free, I wanted to jump up. I wanted to knock him over and sprint for the door. I was confident enough in myself to get out of a police station...one of the most heavily armed and staffed police stations in the world…

But I rubbed my wrists instead.

"Thanks." I grumbled as he sat back down wearily.

"Now, can we get this show on the road?" He asked, pulling out a pen and flipping his file to a blank piece of lined paper.

"Why? Do you have somewhere to be? Doughnuts to take out?" I joked.

He didn't laugh.

"Okay so…" I quickly moved on, biting my lip. "Where should I start?"

"Tell me how you got out."

"Comms check." I called into the headset I pulled from my pack.

"Five by five." A voice answered, along with a distinct slurp of ramen that told me my eye in the sky was at a video game bar.

"Jesus, are you eating?" I hissed, glancing to see if any of the boys noticed I was making this all up as I went.

"You know what time it is here, right?" Kojima retorted snobbishly. "It's a wonder I'm awake at all. I have drill in the morning!"

"Whose idea was this! Huh, Zeratul?" I turned to face the wall, too embarrassed to let anyone else see how stupid this was going to end up being. His codename was a character from his favorite video game, one he was no doubt playing as he steered me into a death trap rescue op.

"You didn't say no!" He argued, and I swear to god, I could hear the noodles hanging out of his mouth.

"Uhh, miss?" The Korean kid with the cheekbones tapped me on the shoulder, and I jumped around. They all looked at me like they knew I'd lost my mind, but were going to follow me anyway. The tall one had Bacon on his back, and I could see the passports in hand. They'd done everything that I asked them to do, and were ready for me to hold up my end of the bargain.

"Alright Zeratul," I ordered, "it's now or never." My voice changed. It was the one I used when I was covered in dust under a barbed wire crawl. The one that came out when there was no room for discussion, no time for error. The sergeant in me was still very much alive, despite my attempts to quell her. Kojima scrambled at the sound of it. I heard plastic ramen cups get tossed, fingers flying over a keyboard, and the short breaths of a soldier who knew exactly what was coming next.

"Do you have the package?" He asked robotically.

"Affirm, all nine of them!" I snapped back as I pointed to each member and lined them up against the wall. They moved quickly and quietly according to my instruction and some helpful translating from Cheekbones. "Set my stage, Z." I commanded.

"Roger, Sarge." Kojima said, and I braced myself. "The Forum at Inglewood, capacity: 17,5. Been standing since 1967, renovated in '88 and '14."

"Schematics?" I asked, reaching for my back belt loop where my night sticks hung at the ready.

"They're a mess, but good news is we have multiple points of entry."

"What about tonight's schedule?"

"Our boys are live at 1800 pacific standard time in the bowl." I wanted to scoff at his choice of words; our boys? Kojima was Japanese and I was an American. How were they at all ours?

"Any exhibition halls?" I continued, trying to get back into the rhythm of ignoring useless back thought.

"Uhh...no-wait, yes. A small reception hall in use right now by...Sarge-" I put my hand to the headset, wondering what could have made him pause so suddenly.

"What?" I pressed.

"Who is he who must not be named?" He asked, distinctly relaying each syllable, making sure he got them in the right order. Excitedly, I glanced back at the unsuspecting Koreans and couldn't help but laugh to myself. My lucked seemed to be on the mend! "Sarge? Who is it?" Kojima pressed.

"It's the Dark Lord. Are you telling me there's a potter con? Seriously?"

"I don't know what that is, but it's reserved until after the concert." I felt his shrug through the headset.

"I bet they have cloaks." I thought out loud. Where once our exfil had been nothing but hopeful thinking, a plan was starting to form.

"Why would they have...who is the dark-" Kojima started on his crusade for answers, but there was no time. The plan was tentative and messy, but I liked it. I pulled one of my retractable nightsticks from it's clip on my belt and swished it open with a flick of my wrist.

Firstly, I never thought I would miss the feeling of something in my hands as much as I missed the cold touch of my chrome rods. Secondly, the boys looked terrified.

"On the move!" I announced, and kicked the door open again.

We moved like—

"Wait wait wait…" Hemingway hit the brake on my story. He held up his hand in disbelief. "You used those poor unsuspecting potter heads as cover?" His voice dripped with his skepticism, which I fully appreciated. It seemed too fantastic to be true, but true it was, and I grinned mischievously.

"The venue was crawling with people who knew the boys' faces. We needed to get by unseen. Robes were a great idea."

"And you're sure you didn't get this story off the back of a drug-store spy novel?" He asked, and I laughed.

"You can't make this shit up, Ernest!" I joked, but he dead-panned at my calling him by the author whose last name they shared.

"Keep going." He barked and I grumbled.

"Tough crowd."

"You avoided security all the way to the convention hall, correct?" He led.

"Yes, but they caught up with us backstage."

"This place is like a frakking maze." I groaned as I led the convoy of Koreans down a brightly lit concrete hallway, somewhere under or behind the arena.

"Take your next left. Should be 100 ft from your last turn." Kojima instructed. I looked back to see how far we'd come, checking on the weary faces at the same time. The tall one was carrying a slumped Bacon, Cat-eyed kid was helping the other tall one with the ears, and Cheekbones was bringing up the rear with Kyungsoo. I really should have asked for their names, but what good would it have done at this point?

"How much further?" I asked, focusing back to the hall. My fingertips slid along the cinder block wall; counting, stressing, over-analyzing, remembering slowly what muscle memory had already taken care of.

"After this left, you'll come to a set of double doors. It's the backstage exit, Sarge. Everything past it is public eye."

"How many eyes we talking?" I asked as we made the left turn he'd mentioned. I could see the doors at the end, and through the brightly lit windows, multiple heads passing by.

"I don't have a heat map, all I have are blueprints. I can't even see where you are for sure." Kojima seemed upset knowing he couldn't provide me with much help. I signaled our caravan to stop at the doors, fanning them down to sit low on the wall. When I peeked through the windows, I could see the chaotic carpet of an exhibition hall, and five dozen or so witches and wizards. They were all cloaked in full length house robes that looked just like our ticket to freedom. When I hunkered back down, I gestured for Kyungsoo to join me at the front. He crawled up, eyes big and round. They paused me, how frightened they looked. This was not the face I remembered.

"What's the plan?" He asked and I sank deeper into that uncertainty. That wasn't the voice I remembered either. But I quickly refocused, because now was definitely not that time for that.

"I'm going into that con to get robes for us. You guys need to stay down and out of sight here-"

"어디있어?!" Muffled Korean shouts echoed down the hall, making everyone jump.

"Shit." I mumbled. Kyungsoo started again and I swear he looked exactly like my mother. "I mean shoot, okay?! Stay here!" I snapped. His understanding was a jerky nod, and I swiftly crouched back down the hall. At the corner, I set my back against the wall and slowly snooped around. A dark suited asian man ran around another turn a hundred or so feet down from us. He had an earwig that he rambled into, but no weapon of any kind. I figured he was more 'meat shield' security than tactical. Probably because there would have been an issue with foreign nationals toting around unregistered firearms. I twirled my rod around my fingers absently, distracted by the memory that at one time, I had been that foreign national. The guard ran through, down another section of hall and disappeared. Seemed like he was as lost down here as we were.

"Zeratul." I whispered.

"Copy." My headset answered.

"Is there any backup you can give me?"

"Short of triggering the fire alarm, I've got nothing, Sarge."

"Now that you mention it…" I huffed. Plan C took a tentative shape. "Get that code ready." I instructed, starting to head back down to the boys. "Set it off on my signal."-

"So you're the one who set off the fire alarm?" Hemingway asked.

"Naturally." I lied.

"And you say you memorized the blueprints before hand." He reaffirmed, obviously not believing the censored version of the story I was feeding him. There was no way I was going to give up Kojima, so I'd been changing some details here and there. Just little things, like his existence and all.

"So the guards found in hallway 7-F, one of whom you gave a severe concussion…" He shot me a look of disapproval, "were able to catch up to you because of the fire alarm?" He jotted something down, and I knew without looking that he didn't believe my-

"Uhh...sure."

As I snuck back to the boys, more angry shouts could be heard, closer this time. I could even hear the pitter patter of combat boots, which made me giddy. I didn't even get a chance to straighten though, before Cheekbones jumped up and yelled,

"조심해!"

Pretty sure it meant 'look out!', because a second later, a big hand grabbed my shoulder and spun me around. Instinct kicked in, which I was proud to say happened as quickly as it did when I used to train everyday. I grabbed the wrist of the frankly giant asian man who had me, put his arm in a lock, and walked him back into his partner who was coming around the corner.

"Now!" I yelled into my mic. I kept the hold on the first guard, and used him to balance as I kicked his partner back down when he tried to get up again. The hall was suddenly washed in neon red light as the fire protocols for the building were triggered.


	3. Chapter 3

**Pairing:** Do Kyungsoo / Harper Hasagawa (OC)

 **Current Chapter Rating:** PG-13 (Violence)

"So, the bus driver," Hemingway exhaled, "he took the money." My back was starting to hurt from sitting in this uncomfortable chair for so long, and I switched which leg I had crossed.

"Yes." I answered. This whole charade was getting boring. The fear from earlier, plus the adrenaline of yesterday, were long gone now that Hemingway and I had been cooped up in here for nearly three hours. How much longer was he going to do this for? Surely he wanted a break.

"Right off the bat?" He continued distractedly, jotting down my responses.

"Yes."

"With no coercion on your part." He reiterated, guiding me to his point like I was some sort of newb.

"What can I say?" I shrugged snobbishly. "LA should find better city employees."

"Well, they been looking for a reason to fire him." He caught me off guard with this free detail, and I leaned in, finally interested.

"Why?"

"Apparently he likes to skip stops." Hemingway shrugged, but I let out a laugh.

"No shit?" I chuckled, marveling at the universe for its weird sense of humor. "Guess my luck really _was_ holding out."

"So you make it to the airport. Then what?" He led on.

"Then we went in."

"Where security was waiting for you?"

"Not airport security." I pointed out.

"No, private security." Hemingway readjusted in his seat, setting his mouth in an even deeper frown than it had been the whole time, if that was even possible. "Men who had no business enforcing law at an international terminal." I cocked an eyebrow at him, half of me thinking this was a trick, and half of me thinking he'd been on my team all along.

"Whoa there, Hemingway. You sound suspiciously like you're coming over to my side."

"There are no sides, just the truth." He said it so flippantly, like he actually believed it.

"Of course there are sides!" I scoffed. After so many hours in here together, I hadn't peg him as an ignorant. "There has to be, because the truth is relative." Life had taught me that lesson again and again, more bitter and depressing each time.

"You learn that in Afghanistan?" He fired back. Definitely a trick. "Or was it Syria? Libya?" He listed off some the locations that the United States had a heavy military presence in, hoping he'd peg where I served without knowing. It was a wild shot in the dark, but it was creditable. Your occupation always changes you; how you look, how you act, how your respond to situations. It didn't take a genius, or even a green detective to see that I had training, and the most common form of training was military.

"You took a big chance just then, didn't you Ernest?" I acknowledged his leap. It would be dumb to assume that I could hide behind my lack of identification forever. Three hours seemed like a good record, but sooner or later they were going to find me. And this would be where they would start. I'd bet good money that there were three or four desk jockeys behind that glass right now, vying for my first hint. They could find you with so little these days...

"Is it going to pay off?" Hemingway pressed. It would probably be better to not say anything at all, to starve them of the satisfaction. But my butt was numb, and I was hungry, and I was sick and tired of sitting in this damn room. I wanted this to be over with, I wanted to go home.

"Yeah, alright." I shrugged flippantly, figuring to hell with it. "But listen, what I did today has nothing to do with my service." I didn't think my saying it would at all change what he thought, but I felt the need to specify, if only for myself. What I did in the military had nothing to do with what I did for those South Koreans. _How_ I did it, was a little different. But that's not what he asked.

"Are you sure about that?" He leaned back in his chair and dropped his pencil in the folder. It was the kind of stance your dad would take when he didn't believe your excuse for being out after curfew.

"Are you about to brand me as some kind of terrorist because I helped Koreans? They're southerners!" My heart sped up as the thought left my mouth. Here was another thing I hadn't even thought about when I agreed to help them: what my own country would think of me once I had.

"No, I just think that a lot of good men and women go over there, see things, hear things that… _change_ their relative truth." Ernest was picking his words carefully, probably because it was such a huge elephant to invite into the room. Every other TV show, every other movie, they were all about the grey area the US was living in fighting this war. I wasn't there to discuss the finer details of my stance on the matter, but if he said one thing out of place, you bet your ass I would pop off.

"You're not wrong," I countered, "but everything I did, I did because I believed it was the right thing to do."

"You gave a man a concussion—" He threw his hands in the air, seemingly much more exacerbated than he had been letting on. He was sick of being in here, I was sick of being in here, we should both just leave! But no…we had to account for every one of my sins.

My eye roll should have moved mountains as he went off on his spree. "And we're listing again."

"You stabbed a man with a stick—"

"A _wand_ , and he's fine."

"You bribed a city employee—"

"Apparently, I'm not the first."

"And let's not forget the show coming up where you broke one man's jaw, and shattered another's arm." He flipped to the next page in the folder, revealing pictures of bruised faces, and medical charts outlining just how badly I'd ruined someone's time.

"Shattered is a harsh word." I turned away, not wanting to look at them.

"What word would you rather use?" He mused at my discomfort, but that wasn't exactly what it was. I'd done much worse to people. I will admit here and now that I've committed my fair share of killing in the line of duty…but what I did at LAX wasn't wrapped in any flag but my own. I was fighting for my life, and instinct kicked in. I didn't mean to hurt them so badly. At the time, all I could see were openings and soft spots, not faces or pain. They probably screamed, but I couldn't even tell you what it sounded like.

"Unavoidably hurt?" I offered instead.

"Oh really?" Ernest lifted a bushy brow at me, another 'I-don't-believe-you' face. "You don't think any of this could have been prevented?"

"We already went through this!" I snapped, letting my annoyance get the best of me. "I was not the instigator, I was the response. I did what I had to do based on the actions taken by that agency. But yes, this all could have been avoided had that company treated those boys like humans instead of _singing_ _dancing_ _livestock_." I pounded out the syllables on the table to make my point. He hadn't been there! He didn't see the state Bacon was in! That kid was destroyed, and his managers expected him to sing and dance for a million crazy girls? How was that humane? How was that compassionate? They deserved to lose whatever revenue they did by cancelling the show, and I was glad as hell those boys got home safely.

"I don't presume to understand the cultural differences here, and neither should you." Hemingway tried to curb my anger with some sort of lecture, but I battered it down with my familiarity.

"I did two tours in southeast Asia. I understand their commitment, and their silence. They suffer and they smile. It's how they are."

"If you wanted to advocate so badly on their behalf, why didn't you do it the right way? The—"

"The legal way?" I cut him off again, and he realized he may have pushed me too far. "The way that's as broken as it is ineffective? That is not my arena, and let's not forget that one of those boys had to go home to a dead mother. I stuck to what I was good at."

I told myself to take a deep breath. Breathe in, breathe out. My passion was getting the better of me, and god dammit, I did not want to go to jail. Hemingway, in turn, gazed at me from his side of the table, aware that I was too hot at the moment to poke, but still not getting up to finish this never ending interrogation.

The value of money was hardly measured by how much you had. It was the status, the opportunities, the threat of being without it, that made everyone learn its language. Things seemed cheaper in America, but that was because $500 was actually 500,000 won. Significantly less zeroes, but all the more influence.

After she, _Harper_ , seized the bus, it was a quick trip to the airport. They didn't even have to hike up from the street. Apparently she'd paid enough in both money and threats to get what she wanted. Kyungsoo sat uncomfortably as he stared at the back of her head. She was so aggressive now, surrounded in bitter orders she was comfortable yet unwilling to give. It was told in every move of her body that she didn't want to keep going, that she wanted to be anywhere but on the bus with them…and yet she stayed. Junmyeon told them after he'd forked over all his cash that she resorted to violence so quickly and so easily, that it had to be habit. Normal people don't just automatically go from cash to fists in the same sentence unless they're used to it.

And then they all looked at Kyungsoo, questioning him! Like he had any answers to give. She was as much a mystery now as she was when he first saw her, perhaps even more so. When he couldn't offer them any insight, EXO turned to Suho, who just heaved a sigh. This was the price of getting home, he said. Condone the violence, or stay hostage to the expensive water and tiny bags of peanuts at the convention center.

It wasn't hard to figure out which everyone was going to choose.

Harper stood beside the door as they all filed off the bus, eyes ticking over them, doing the same headcount Suho constantly did. When they were all accounted for, she gestured to the driver. Most likely something obscene, because he furiously slammed the doors shut and plowed into traffic without bothering to look.

"She makes friends wherever she goes, doesn't she?" Junmyeon muttered as he passed out the passports, shooting D.O. a special kind of irritated look. Kyungsoo ignored it; something about 'definitely discussing it later'. Suho probably didn't believe him. As a matter of fact, none of them believed that he had no idea what kind of person she was. Even if he told them all about the girl he'd met that night, they would all tell him it was a different person.

The thought was still crossing his mind when Harper corralled them all into a circle and used Suho as her personal mouthpiece.

"Stick close to each other. Head straight for security. No matter what, don't stop for them, don't stop for _me_. You all get on that plane or so help me I will throw you back in that dressing room bathroom myself. Are we clear?" The boys all nodded. Her pep talks needed work, but she got her point across.

In a tight blob, they entered the international terminal. To try and seem inconspicuous, Harper lassoed herself around Baekhyun's arm, looking like a young mixed couple. He went rigid at her touch, but quickly relaxed into it as the automatic doors slid open for them. At least if shit hit the fan, everyone could count on Baek to survive, because there was nowhere safer to be than in her grasp.

The terminal was shaped like a giant hangar, with what seemed like miles between check in and security. They clopped along on the bright white tile, keeping a wary eye out for guards that could have followed them from the convention center.

Between the United and Singapore Airlines booths, a cluster of dark suits stood at the ready. They looked like a group of secret agents, earwigs and shades in sparkling shape. Harper immediately ducked her head into Baekhyun's shoulder, using his frame as a block to peak around. She didn't seem too intimidated, but EXO let out a collective gulp.

It was _their_ security. The men who'd followed them from Seoul. They hadn't been at the arena because they were only scheduled to be there for show time, but Kyungsoo guessed that they'd been sent ahead the minute Harper busted down the dressing room door.

These were guys Kyungsoo met before he even debuted, men he'd known for years. All those caring feelings he couldn't find before came bubbling up to the surface, as Harper released Baek and stepped out of the safety of their group.

"Wait, no! Tell her to stop!" Jongdae hissed to Kyungsoo, but there was nothing he could do. She was out of arm's reach and calling out to her would only draw attention to themselves. "That's Kunwoo's brother!"

"We have to get to the gate, we have to. She said not to wait for her." Suho ordered even as their pace towards the line slowed.

"She's going to kill them!" Dae whined.

"She's _not_ going to kill them." Kyungsoo quickly defended her, although he wasn't sure why it flew out without his say so.

"You said she stabbed a guy already!"

"With a chopstick!" He tried to downplay it.

"Uhh, that was a wand?" Jongin interjected, but Soo cut him off with a glare.

"She's dangerous!" Jongdae snapped, as if Kyungsoo had proved the point for him.

"Would you rather go back to the arena?" Suho intervened with a hiss. "Miss the funeral? Let Baekhyun get fired?" The members eyed each other, weighing the expressions of the other too see if they were willing to let their friends get beat up if it meant they'd get to go home.

"No…" Jongdae finally sighed. Junmyeon put a firm hand on his shoulder and squeezed, because he was feeling the pressure too, they could tell.

"Then we do this her way."

"I trust her." Baekhyun piped up, and everybody looked at him. He had a tendency to believe blindly, mainly because he was a puppy at heart, but it was a pure sort of opinion that tipped the balance just enough.

"Let's get home, and we'll apologize to Kunwoo later." Junmyeon finalized, and just like that-their group had momentum again.

"We've been in the US too long." Chanyeol quipped with a grin, tottering along at the back, having way too much fun for the situation. "We sound like Cowboys."

"Ugh," Minseok scoffed playfully, "someone get me a _hanbok_." The boys all chuckled, and were still chuckling right as the fighting started.

I will admit that my approach wasn't exactly subtle, but we were at the end of the line. All I had to do was distract the guards long enough for the boys to get through security. From there, the airport would keep them safe. There was no way LAX would allow a group of Koreans to detain another group of Koreans in their terminal. Laws and such.

I marched up to the suits as the boys headed for international waters. My head was down and my hands gripped the batons on my back belt loop. The only amount of surprise I had was that they'd think I was unarmed. It was too optimistic to think they didn't already have my picture, my name, and maybe even my service record. But my batons, they were my constant advantage. Small, concealable, and particularly destructive, I'd fought my way out of plenty of situations with my trusty sidekicks after the ammo ran dry. And now I would do it again, because the last thing I wanted was to be shot in the back by police for bringing a gun and using lethal force. They tended to shoot first in those kinds of situations.

Unfortunately, I didn't have the luxury of a full advance, because one of the guards caught sight of my Korean boy band hiding behind a Chinese tour group.

"Kim Junmyeon!" He shouted and I knew my time was up.

Batons make a pretty sound when whipped through the air. They sing a sort of harmonic tune until they're halted by something...

Like mine were by his face.

The other travelers in our immediate vicinity started to scream and run when I arched my second stick onto the raising arms of the next suit. I turned into the momentum and lashed my combat boot across his jaw, putting him down.

People were shouting, bodies were scrambling, out of the corner of my periphery I saw the boys being pushed along with the crowd, the airport staff ushering people away from the scuffle. I dodged the punch of a guard and swiped his feet out from under him with my baton. Before I could reset, another bear hugged me from behind, pinning my arms to my sides. I tested his balance by lifting both legs and bucking at the guard coming for my front. It pushed him back enough that he released me. With the drop I caught his arm, spun around his back, twisted and pulled. His arm made a sick popping sound and he cried out. Was it out of socket? Probably. Was it broken? Most likely. But it put him out of commission and I kicked him out of my way.

They came two at a time then, and I lost all visual on the boys, too busy trying not to be beaten to a pulp. Figuring I needed a leg up, I ran and jumped on top of the closest ticket counter, swinging my baton along the side, making them jump back and give me a pocket of space. TSA was shutting down the checkpoint, but I couldn't see my guys, so I hoped and I assumed that they'd made it in.

Focusing back on the people who were trying to end me, I dropped to a crouch, supported myself with a hand and bicycle kicked the guards in front of me. It was a game of bob and weave at this point. I had to dodge their grabs and holds. If they got their hands on me, I'd be finished. Despite the fact that I was stronger than most men I knew, I wasn't enough to fight off the weight of five angry Asians. So when I'd made my opening, I lept from the counter and took off towards the exit. The boys were taken care of, it was time to get the hell outta there. But before I could taste sweet freedom, two guards stepped in my path, and another two flanked my right. I veered to the left but backtracked when I saw two more. They had me surrounded, and it wasn't just bodyguards. TSA finally joined the party, which was unpleasant since I knew they were armed.

 _It's fine,_ I told myself. I'd fought my way out of worse situations. Couldn't really think of any at the moment, but I'd make do. I had my batons, my objective was met...it was a win for the most part. I wind milled my sticks, demanding more room as they pushed in, and was just starting to consider the consequences of getting caught when my whole world went ironclad. My muscles clenched like there was a vice on each limb and joint, and any movement I had went into arching my back involuntarily. The first thing that came to mind while I was unable to move was, 'electrocution'.

They tased me!

If you've ever wondered what it's like to be hit with a stun gun, I can tell you it's not fun. Find a thesaurus, and look up the word ' _awful'_. Seriously, being tased is a bad bad time. I remembered the first time I'd ever been volted to high heaven as I laid writhing on the ground in the airport: it was during hell week at boot camp. I was still coming off the high of beating almost everyone at the obstacle course. While I didn't get first, I at least beat Tinker, and the other ass wipes who still liked to chant ' _Here comes the Baroness'_ when I entered the room. We were ushered into our classroom where the Drill Sergeant had laid out mats like for gymnasts. He told us to break off by squad and take a cushion. Tinker and the other soldiers in my unit crowded towards the back, no worries past what MRE they were gunning to grab at lunch.

I'd known Tinker since my freshman year of high school. We'd had homeroom together, we played sports together, we went to prom together, we even enlisted together. Now we were getting tased together.

He linked arms with me on my right, giving me an apologetic grin, and another guy took my left. My DS stood behind us and counted down from three, two, one-

Have you seen that YouTube video of the cadet who grabs the assistants junk while she's stunned? That's pretty much what it was like. And it wasn't a feeling I ever wanted to experience again, yet here I was: in the arms of the LAPD, being dragged out of LAX, the toes of my boots bouncing over the gravel. Here I was with Hemingway, sweating out the end of this devastating interview.

"And that's it?" He asked.

"That's it." Retelling it all made it sound completely unbelievable, but I was used to outrageous things being the truth.

"It's quite the tale." The old detective shook his head tiredly, and shut his folder with a slap. Everything that I told him could be corroborated with surveillance footage. Well, everything but the bus, but that didn't count. Still, one girl breaking out nine pop stars, using only batons and harry potter merch?

"If you sell the movie rights, I expect a cut of the profits." I joked.

"There is one thing I still don't know." He leaned in on his elbow, giving me the same kind of look he gave when he guessed I'd served in the military. It was a look only someone who'd been around the block a few times had, the one that listened to their gut more than their evidence file.

"What's that?" I asked uncomfortably.

"What was your exit strategy?"

Our final staring contest was interrupted by the door suddenly flying open, and both our surprised faces when an exquisitely dressed Asian man and a briefcase walked in.

"My client won't be saying another word." He had a high voice, but in a tall, 'I-own-this-building' sort of way. He also had impeccable timing because I was just about to throw myself at Hemingway and get locked up for life instead of answering that question.

"Your _client_?" Hemingway twisted around in his chair to gape at the intruder.

"Yes, I am her attorney."

"My _attorney_?" I shared Hemingway's surprise. As far as everyone here was concerned, I'd waived my right to counsel, and it wasn't like I had a lawyer on retainer to call anyway. Also, was he not like...nine hours late?

"Yes." The lawyer answered both of our questions, and then stepped back, gesturing for Hemingway to stand. He was jockeying for the detective's seat, and it was _quite_ the dismissal. Ernest was clearly offended, but not even he could sass at attorney-client privilege. So he stood with a huff, giving both of us the angry eye before marching out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Personally, I don't think it was fair, since all I'd been was compliant. But I supposed he was judging me by my company.

"Hey, I didn't-" I started to explain that I neither called an attorney, nor could I afford one, but the man held up a finger to silence me. We lingered in a choked quiet for several moments before I heard a soft ' _click'_ from the speakers in the ceiling, the flip of a switch. He had us wait for them to turn off the recorder before he grabbed Hemingway's abandoned chair and quickly made himself at home, as straight backed and formal as I was used to. The dreadful thought that he was an old friend of an old family I used to know crossed my mind and made me nervous, but I caught sight of a _Taegukgi_ pin on his fancy leather case, which only put that fear to rest and raised another one.

"You're Korean?" I established, whether he would silence me again or not would cost him his finger, and I hope the glare I shot him was enough to convey that.

"Very astute." He brushed off the accusation in my voice, unloading a file similar to Hemingway's, only instead of English, it was in squiggles. "I'm _South_ Korean, it that was your next question." He mused, carefully insulting me in the process.

" _It wasn't."_ I snapped. I don't know, I just figured, maybe it was common sense? I kidnap South Koreans, a South Korean lawyer shows up. Doesn't that just make sense? Which meant he was intentionally being an asshole. I knew lawyers were typically dastardly, all of the JAG stiffs could attest to that, but to their own clients even?

Better question: Was I even his client?

"Good," He continued through my glare, which was a considerable feat, "at least this conversation won't be as dull as it will be short."

"What is that supposed to mean?" I could feel the snob in me starting to rise up. I was too drained to deal with this, not after three hours of Hemingway's monotonous interrogation. It'd left me too brain dead to navigate safely through legal town. "Now, what did you tell him?" He asked, pen poised over paper.

"Are you even a real lawyer?" I blurted, because I mean, he hadn't even introduced himself and he was expecting me to launch into that whole story again just like that? I don't think so. Instead of answering, he plopped down his pen and went back into his bag for a small tablet that he propped up in front of me. "What the hell is this?"

"This," He sighed as he pushed the on button, "is your only chance. And yes," the screen filled with the face of another Asian man who smiled at me politely from behind a big desk, "I am a real lawyer. I'm just not yours." He leaned back in his stolen chair smugly as the tiny man on the screen called for my attention.

"Good afternoon, Ms. Harper." He greeted, folding his hands neatly on his tabletop; an unfamiliar outline of cityscape scrawling out the window behind him.

"Uhh, it's morning, and how do you know my name?" I looked between the tablet and the lawyer uncertainly. Which one was I supposed to look at?

"I've been hearing your name all day, and pardon my time zone difference. I've just had lunch. Did you have breakfast?" His tone was pleasant, like having a chat with an old friend. It irked me that he knew my name when not even Hemingway did. Was this man really better connected than America's finest?

"Oh yes," I rolled my eyes, "The LAPD served me a steaming bowl of incarceration, an eventful side of interrogation...and bad coffee." The tiny man laughed out loud, which I wasn't particularly fond of. My sarcasm wasn't supposed to be funny, it was supposed to be insulting damnit! "Who are you and what do you want?" I asked, just to stop him from laughing.

"My name is Kim Young-min, and I am the CEO of SM Entertainment." I was quick to put together the dots, but I still couldn't believe it. So soon? It hadn't even been twenty-four hours and here was the big boss, ready to finish me.

"Are you here to sue me or something?" I tried to put up a brave front, but in the back of my mind, I was shaking. How was I supposed to get out of this? This wasn't something my batons could fix. "Because, go right ahead. I got nothing-" Maybe if I played strong, they would think I was so. It was how I lived most of my life, fake it til you make it. But whatever anxiety I possessed was starting to come out on my brow.

"I believe the proper term is, 'I _have_ nothing'," He corrected my English, which was as funny as it was sad. I probably only laughed because I was so used to it. In Japan, they would correct me all the time, baffled by how I couldn't speak my own language, let alone another one. "But no, I'm not planning on taking any legal action against you in regards to the rescue of my employees yesterday."

"Rescue?" His choice of word was particular, and I didn't think he was the type to not prepare beforehand. He looked well groomed and powerful. Not like a man who was going to misuse a word that could very clearly take this from one side of the scale to the other.

"Of course!" He exclaimed. "The American branch of SM went too far! They were clearly acting on their own, without my authorization. What kind of animals refuse to let a friend attend their own mother's funeral?" I glanced at the lawyer, but he seemed completely uninterested in the exchange. Did he think it was outrageous? Because he seemed like the type who would keep someone from their mother's funeral…just saying.

"So it's the American's fault?" My lip curled at his explanation. " _How original._ " I mean, the whole world was blaming us for everything, why not tack on this as well?

"The _fault_ lies with me, as I am the head of the company." He emphasized ' _fault'_ like he was a little insulted I even insinuate he run his company any other way than wholesomely. "I'm not here to reprimand you, Ms. Harper. I'm here to reward you."

"Reward me?" I tested, but he nodded adamantly. "For kidnapping your employees?"

" _Rescuing_." He held up a finger in correction.

This had never happened to me before. I didn't know how to handle someone paying me when I was sure they were going to punish me. You're supposed to just go with stuff like that, right? I was still uncuffed, but it wasn't like I could fight him through the screen. Lawyer man though…

"Okay well, I like money." I threw out. It was worth a shot at least. He was offering, after all!

"I'd like for you to come work for us."

"Money and food-I'm sorry, what?" I was still listing the things I liked when he threw out that bombshell.

"I'm giving you the opportunity to move to South Korea and work for SM." He repeated himself, a smug grin on his thin lips.

"Um, how about a timeshare or something instead?" I chuckled nervously, a part of me already discouraged that I wasn't going to get a lump sum.

"We have a very lucrative benefits package." He sounded like the host on a game show, presenting me with what I could win if I picked the correct door. In this case though, he was only offering me one door. "We would pay for your relocation, plus your room and board for the life of your contract." Contract piqued my interest. There weren't very many jobs that required that kind of thing anymore, at least not in the fast food industry I'd been in for the last few months.

"And how long would that be exactly?" I asked, wondering if it was like the book I'd signed for the military.

"Thirteen years."

"THIRTEEN YEARS!" I shouted. The lawyer jumped, and I swear there was a tremor against the glass, like someone was ready to sprint in if they had to. "You are out of your damn mind!"

"I would go ahead and put in your two weeks' notice for you, but...you are unemployed. Quite frequently it seems." His eyes moved away from the camera, and to something else on his screen. Information of some sort that was undoubtedly about me. How could he know that I was jobless already? That only happened yesterday. They couldn't even have gotten me out of their system that quickly! I clamped my mouth shut, suddenly unsure of what I should or shouldn't say. I hated this type of thing, where you reveal everything about yourself in two or three little words. I wasn't the type to pick up on those, but apparently he was. Apparently this CEO Kim was a regular spy master.

"The world is quite a different place after coming home from war, isn't it?" He looked back at me, and the mood suddenly darkened.

"Go fuck yourself." I gritted. There was no way in hell I was going to follow him down that rabbit hole, not when he had absolutely no idea who I was, or what I'd gone through. Sure, every male in his country was required to serve, but it wasn't the same. He didn't have the blood of hundreds on his hands, or the nightmares to back them up. Who was he to pretend like he could compare? "The family we leave behind often put down their own struggles to help us take up ours." I reached forward and snatched the tablet from the table, and brought it right up to my eyes.

"Listen, whoever the fuck you are, if you so much as touch my family-"

"You should congratulate me, Ms. Harper." He cut me off, knowing he was perfectly safe to do so, which made me more pissed off and more powerless to do anything about it. "I am now the proud new owner of your mother's mortgage loan. It seems she is behind on a payment, or three." I dropped the tablet back to the table and stared dumb struck at his tiny manipulative face.

"What…" I knew my mother had been having some issues. It was difficult to be a single mom, and have an unplanned bird back in the nest. But I had no idea she was that far behind.

Or he could be lying. That was always an option.

"I could very easily transfer your first paycheck, which is considerable, to offset the balance. You'll find that I am a very generous credit company."

He had me and he knew it. It would take a sociopath to not agree to save their mother. While I did sometimes consider it, I cared way too much to tell the world to burn.

"How do I make you go away?" I said as lowly as I could. It felt horrid, playing like I had anything to bargain with when he clearly held all the cards and knew it.

"You come to Seoul." He said easily.

"And you'll leave my mother alone?" I clarified for no other reason than to hear him say it.

"Of course! And, if it makes it easier, I won't terminate EXO's contracts, and you can work with them." Those were the boys he was talking about, the boys I'd just jeopardized my freedom to save. They were called EXO. I remembered the faces that I'd put on that plane: Kyungsoo, Cheekbones, Bacon, the tall one, the cat-eyed kid, the sheep…the other tall one. EXO is what their fans chanted for them, it was who they were. And yet-

"Terminate their contracts?"

"Yes," He said it nonchalantly, not like destroying the boys that I would rather see content than not was beyond reproach, "I am perfectly within my rights to do so, with them refusing to perform and such. We lost millions."

"You are one twisted fuck, you know that, right?" I couldn't help myself, it sort of just slipped out. Seriously? He's putting up a false front by telling me he wants to reward me, then demands I move across the world, blackmails my mother to do it, and then says he'll throw in the futures of nine other people for giggles. He was demented!

"Do try to speak like a lady, Ms. Harper. You represent SM now. Lawyer Kwik will take you through the next steps, getting a visa and-" He started to arrange the things on his desk, and at his name, the attorney came to life. He shuffled papers around like a pro, and the briefcase was back, but I quickly held up both hands.

"Wait, I didn't say yes."

"But of course you did." CEO Kim returned knowingly. "You all but screamed for someone to save you from yourself. Why else would you have gone into that airport with no intention of leaving?"


	4. Chapter 4

**Pairing:** Do Kyungsoo / Harper Hasagawa (OC)

 **Current Chapter Rating:** PG-13 (Violence)

"So, the bus driver," Hemingway exhaled, "he took the money." My back was starting to hurt from sitting in this uncomfortable chair for so long, and I switched which leg I had crossed.

"Yes." I answered. This whole charade was getting boring. The fear from earlier, plus the adrenaline of yesterday, were long gone now that Hemingway and I had been cooped up in here for nearly three hours. How much longer was he going to do this for? Surely he wanted a break.

"Right off the bat?" He continued distractedly, jotting down my responses.

"Yes."

"With no coercion on your part." He reiterated, guiding me to his point like I was some sort of newb.

"What can I say?" I shrugged snobbishly. "LA should find better city employees."

"Well, they been looking for a reason to fire him." He caught me off guard with this free detail, and I leaned in, finally interested.

"Why?"

"Apparently he likes to skip stops." Hemingway shrugged, but I let out a laugh.

"No shit?" I chuckled, marveling at the universe for its weird sense of humor. "Guess my luck really _was_ holding out."

"So you make it to the airport. Then what?" He led on.

"Then we went in."

"Where security was waiting for you?"

"Not airport security." I pointed out.

"No, private security." Hemingway readjusted in his seat, setting his mouth in an even deeper frown than it had been the whole time, if that was even possible. "Men who had no business enforcing law at an international terminal." I cocked an eyebrow at him, half of me thinking this was a trick, and half of me thinking he'd been on my team all along.

"Whoa there, Hemingway. You sound suspiciously like you're coming over to my side."

"There are no sides, just the truth." He said it so flippantly, like he actually believed it.

"Of course there are sides!" I scoffed. After so many hours in here together, I hadn't peg him as an ignorant. "There has to be, because the truth is relative." Life had taught me that lesson again and again, more bitter and depressing each time.

"You learn that in Afghanistan?" He fired back. Definitely a trick. "Or was it Syria? Libya?" He listed off some the locations that the United States had a heavy military presence in, hoping he'd peg where I served without knowing. It was a wild shot in the dark, but it was creditable. Your occupation always changes you; how you look, how you act, how your respond to situations. It didn't take a genius, or even a green detective to see that I had training, and the most common form of training was military.

"You took a big chance just then, didn't you Ernest?" I acknowledged his leap. It would be dumb to assume that I could hide behind my lack of identification forever. Three hours seemed like a good record, but sooner or later they were going to find me. And this would be where they would start. I'd bet good money that there were three or four desk jockeys behind that glass right now, vying for my first hint. They could find you with so little these days...

"Is it going to pay off?" Hemingway pressed. It would probably be better to not say anything at all, to starve them of the satisfaction. But my butt was numb, and I was hungry, and I was sick and tired of sitting in this damn room. I wanted this to be over with, I wanted to go home.

"Yeah, alright." I shrugged flippantly, figuring to hell with it. "But listen, what I did today has nothing to do with my service." I didn't think my saying it would at all change what he thought, but I felt the need to specify, if only for myself. What I did in the military had nothing to do with what I did for those South Koreans. _How_ I did it, was a little different. But that's not what he asked.

"Are you sure about that?" He leaned back in his chair and dropped his pencil in the folder. It was the kind of stance your dad would take when he didn't believe your excuse for being out after curfew.

"Are you about to brand me as some kind of terrorist because I helped Koreans? They're southerners!" My heart sped up as the thought left my mouth. Here was another thing I hadn't even thought about when I agreed to help them: what my own country would think of me once I had.

"No, I just think that a lot of good men and women go over there, see things, hear things that… _change_ their relative truth." Ernest was picking his words carefully, probably because it was such a huge elephant to invite into the room. Every other TV show, every other movie, they were all about the grey area the US was living in fighting this war. I wasn't there to discuss the finer details of my stance on the matter, but if he said one thing out of place, you bet your ass I would pop off.

"You're not wrong," I countered, "but everything I did, I did because I believed it was the right thing to do."

"You gave a man a concussion—" He threw his hands in the air, seemingly much more exacerbated than he had been letting on. He was sick of being in here, I was sick of being in here, we should both just leave! But no…we had to account for every one of my sins.

My eye roll should have moved mountains as he went off on his spree. "And we're listing again."

"You stabbed a man with a stick—"

"A _wand_ , and he's fine."

"You bribed a city employee—"

"Apparently, I'm not the first."

"And let's not forget the show coming up where you broke one man's jaw, and shattered another's arm." He flipped to the next page in the folder, revealing pictures of bruised faces, and medical charts outlining just how badly I'd ruined someone's time.

"Shattered is a harsh word." I turned away, not wanting to look at them.

"What word would you rather use?" He mused at my discomfort, but that wasn't exactly what it was. I'd done much worse to people. I will admit here and now that I've committed my fair share of killing in the line of duty…but what I did at LAX wasn't wrapped in any flag but my own. I was fighting for my life, and instinct kicked in. I didn't mean to hurt them so badly. At the time, all I could see were openings and soft spots, not faces or pain. They probably screamed, but I couldn't even tell you what it sounded like.

"Unavoidably hurt?" I offered instead.

"Oh really?" Ernest lifted a bushy brow at me, another 'I-don't-believe-you' face. "You don't think any of this could have been prevented?"

"We already went through this!" I snapped, letting my annoyance get the best of me. "I was not the instigator, I was the response. I did what I had to do based on the actions taken by that agency. But yes, this all could have been avoided had that company treated those boys like humans instead of _singing_ _dancing_ _livestock_." I pounded out the syllables on the table to make my point. He hadn't been there! He didn't see the state Bacon was in! That kid was destroyed, and his managers expected him to sing and dance for a million crazy girls? How was that humane? How was that compassionate? They deserved to lose whatever revenue they did by cancelling the show, and I was glad as hell those boys got home safely.

"I don't presume to understand the cultural differences here, and neither should you." Hemingway tried to curb my anger with some sort of lecture, but I battered it down with my familiarity.

"I did two tours in southeast Asia. I understand their commitment, and their silence. They suffer and they smile. It's how they are."

"If you wanted to advocate so badly on their behalf, why didn't you do it the right way? The—"

"The legal way?" I cut him off again, and he realized he may have pushed me too far. "The way that's as broken as it is ineffective? That is not my arena, and let's not forget that one of those boys had to go home to a dead mother. I stuck to what I was good at."

I told myself to take a deep breath. Breathe in, breathe out. My passion was getting the better of me, and god dammit, I did not want to go to jail. Hemingway, in turn, gazed at me from his side of the table, aware that I was too hot at the moment to poke, but still not getting up to finish this never ending interrogation.

The value of money was hardly measured by how much you had. It was the status, the opportunities, the threat of being without it, that made everyone learn its language. Things seemed cheaper in America, but that was because $500 was actually 500,000 won. Significantly less zeroes, but all the more influence.

After she, _Harper_ , seized the bus, it was a quick trip to the airport. They didn't even have to hike up from the street. Apparently she'd paid enough in both money and threats to get what she wanted. Kyungsoo sat uncomfortably as he stared at the back of her head. She was so aggressive now, surrounded in bitter orders she was comfortable yet unwilling to give. It was told in every move of her body that she didn't want to keep going, that she wanted to be anywhere but on the bus with them…and yet she stayed. Junmyeon told them after he'd forked over all his cash that she resorted to violence so quickly and so easily, that it had to be habit. Normal people don't just automatically go from cash to fists in the same sentence unless they're used to it.

And then they all looked at Kyungsoo, questioning him! Like he had any answers to give. She was as much a mystery now as she was when he first saw her, perhaps even more so. When he couldn't offer them any insight, EXO turned to Suho, who just heaved a sigh. This was the price of getting home, he said. Condone the violence, or stay hostage to the expensive water and tiny bags of peanuts at the convention center.

It wasn't hard to figure out which everyone was going to choose.

Harper stood beside the door as they all filed off the bus, eyes ticking over them, doing the same headcount Suho constantly did. When they were all accounted for, she gestured to the driver. Most likely something obscene, because he furiously slammed the doors shut and plowed into traffic without bothering to look.

"She makes friends wherever she goes, doesn't she?" Junmyeon muttered as he passed out the passports, shooting D.O. a special kind of irritated look. Kyungsoo ignored it; something about 'definitely discussing it later'. Suho probably didn't believe him. As a matter of fact, none of them believed that he had no idea what kind of person she was. Even if he told them all about the girl he'd met that night, they would all tell him it was a different person.

The thought was still crossing his mind when Harper corralled them all into a circle and used Suho as her personal mouthpiece.

"Stick close to each other. Head straight for security. No matter what, don't stop for them, don't stop for _me_. You all get on that plane or so help me I will throw you back in that dressing room bathroom myself. Are we clear?" The boys all nodded. Her pep talks needed work, but she got her point across.

In a tight blob, they entered the international terminal. To try and seem inconspicuous, Harper lassoed herself around Baekhyun's arm, looking like a young mixed couple. He went rigid at her touch, but quickly relaxed into it as the automatic doors slid open for them. At least if shit hit the fan, everyone could count on Baek to survive, because there was nowhere safer to be than in her grasp.

The terminal was shaped like a giant hangar, with what seemed like miles between check in and security. They clopped along on the bright white tile, keeping a wary eye out for guards that could have followed them from the convention center.

Between the United and Singapore Airlines booths, a cluster of dark suits stood at the ready. They looked like a group of secret agents, earwigs and shades in sparkling shape. Harper immediately ducked her head into Baekhyun's shoulder, using his frame as a block to peak around. She didn't seem too intimidated, but EXO let out a collective gulp.

It was _their_ security. The men who'd followed them from Seoul. They hadn't been at the arena because they were only scheduled to be there for show time, but Kyungsoo guessed that they'd been sent ahead the minute Harper busted down the dressing room door.

These were guys Kyungsoo met before he even debuted, men he'd known for years. All those caring feelings he couldn't find before came bubbling up to the surface, as Harper released Baek and stepped out of the safety of their group.

"Wait, no! Tell her to stop!" Jongdae hissed to Kyungsoo, but there was nothing he could do. She was out of arm's reach and calling out to her would only draw attention to themselves. "That's Kunwoo's brother!"

"We have to get to the gate, we have to. She said not to wait for her." Suho ordered even as their pace towards the line slowed.

"She's going to kill them!" Dae whined.

"She's _not_ going to kill them." Kyungsoo quickly defended her, although he wasn't sure why it flew out without his say so.

"You said she stabbed a guy already!"

"With a chopstick!" He tried to downplay it.

"Uhh, that was a wand?" Jongin interjected, but Soo cut him off with a glare.

"She's dangerous!" Jongdae snapped, as if Kyungsoo had proved the point for him.

"Would you rather go back to the arena?" Suho intervened with a hiss. "Miss the funeral? Let Baekhyun get fired?" The members eyed each other, weighing the expressions of the other too see if they were willing to let their friends get beat up if it meant they'd get to go home.

"No…" Jongdae finally sighed. Junmyeon put a firm hand on his shoulder and squeezed, because he was feeling the pressure too, they could tell.

"Then we do this her way."

"I trust her." Baekhyun piped up, and everybody looked at him. He had a tendency to believe blindly, mainly because he was a puppy at heart, but it was a pure sort of opinion that tipped the balance just enough.

"Let's get home, and we'll apologize to Kunwoo later." Junmyeon finalized, and just like that-their group had momentum again.

"We've been in the US too long." Chanyeol quipped with a grin, tottering along at the back, having way too much fun for the situation. "We sound like Cowboys."

"Ugh," Minseok scoffed playfully, "someone get me a _hanbok_." The boys all chuckled, and were still chuckling right as the fighting started.

I will admit that my approach wasn't exactly subtle, but we were at the end of the line. All I had to do was distract the guards long enough for the boys to get through security. From there, the airport would keep them safe. There was no way LAX would allow a group of Koreans to detain another group of Koreans in their terminal. Laws and such.

I marched up to the suits as the boys headed for international waters. My head was down and my hands gripped the batons on my back belt loop. The only amount of surprise I had was that they'd think I was unarmed. It was too optimistic to think they didn't already have my picture, my name, and maybe even my service record. But my batons, they were my constant advantage. Small, concealable, and particularly destructive, I'd fought my way out of plenty of situations with my trusty sidekicks after the ammo ran dry. And now I would do it again, because the last thing I wanted was to be shot in the back by police for bringing a gun and using lethal force. They tended to shoot first in those kinds of situations.

Unfortunately, I didn't have the luxury of a full advance, because one of the guards caught sight of my Korean boy band hiding behind a Chinese tour group.

"Kim Junmyeon!" He shouted and I knew my time was up.

Batons make a pretty sound when whipped through the air. They sing a sort of harmonic tune until they're halted by something...

Like mine were by his face.

The other travelers in our immediate vicinity started to scream and run when I arched my second stick onto the raising arms of the next suit. I turned into the momentum and lashed my combat boot across his jaw, putting him down.

People were shouting, bodies were scrambling, out of the corner of my periphery I saw the boys being pushed along with the crowd, the airport staff ushering people away from the scuffle. I dodged the punch of a guard and swiped his feet out from under him with my baton. Before I could reset, another bear hugged me from behind, pinning my arms to my sides. I tested his balance by lifting both legs and bucking at the guard coming for my front. It pushed him back enough that he released me. With the drop I caught his arm, spun around his back, twisted and pulled. His arm made a sick popping sound and he cried out. Was it out of socket? Probably. Was it broken? Most likely. But it put him out of commission and I kicked him out of my way.

They came two at a time then, and I lost all visual on the boys, too busy trying not to be beaten to a pulp. Figuring I needed a leg up, I ran and jumped on top of the closest ticket counter, swinging my baton along the side, making them jump back and give me a pocket of space. TSA was shutting down the checkpoint, but I couldn't see my guys, so I hoped and I assumed that they'd made it in.

Focusing back on the people who were trying to end me, I dropped to a crouch, supported myself with a hand and bicycle kicked the guards in front of me. It was a game of bob and weave at this point. I had to dodge their grabs and holds. If they got their hands on me, I'd be finished. Despite the fact that I was stronger than most men I knew, I wasn't enough to fight off the weight of five angry Asians. So when I'd made my opening, I lept from the counter and took off towards the exit. The boys were taken care of, it was time to get the hell outta there. But before I could taste sweet freedom, two guards stepped in my path, and another two flanked my right. I veered to the left but backtracked when I saw two more. They had me surrounded, and it wasn't just bodyguards. TSA finally joined the party, which was unpleasant since I knew they were armed.

 _It's fine,_ I told myself. I'd fought my way out of worse situations. Couldn't really think of any at the moment, but I'd make do. I had my batons, my objective was met...it was a win for the most part. I wind milled my sticks, demanding more room as they pushed in, and was just starting to consider the consequences of getting caught when my whole world went ironclad. My muscles clenched like there was a vice on each limb and joint, and any movement I had went into arching my back involuntarily. The first thing that came to mind while I was unable to move was, 'electrocution'.

They tased me!

If you've ever wondered what it's like to be hit with a stun gun, I can tell you it's not fun. Find a thesaurus, and look up the word ' _awful'_. Seriously, being tased is a bad bad time. I remembered the first time I'd ever been volted to high heaven as I laid writhing on the ground in the airport: it was during hell week at boot camp. I was still coming off the high of beating almost everyone at the obstacle course. While I didn't get first, I at least beat Tinker, and the other ass wipes who still liked to chant ' _Here comes the Baroness'_ when I entered the room. We were ushered into our classroom where the Drill Sergeant had laid out mats like for gymnasts. He told us to break off by squad and take a cushion. Tinker and the other soldiers in my unit crowded towards the back, no worries past what MRE they were gunning to grab at lunch.

I'd known Tinker since my freshman year of high school. We'd had homeroom together, we played sports together, we went to prom together, we even enlisted together. Now we were getting tased together.

He linked arms with me on my right, giving me an apologetic grin, and another guy took my left. My DS stood behind us and counted down from three, two, one-

Have you seen that YouTube video of the cadet who grabs the assistants junk while she's stunned? That's pretty much what it was like. And it wasn't a feeling I ever wanted to experience again, yet here I was: in the arms of the LAPD, being dragged out of LAX, the toes of my boots bouncing over the gravel. Here I was with Hemingway, sweating out the end of this devastating interview.

"And that's it?" He asked.

"That's it." Retelling it all made it sound completely unbelievable, but I was used to outrageous things being the truth.

"It's quite the tale." The old detective shook his head tiredly, and shut his folder with a slap. Everything that I told him could be corroborated with surveillance footage. Well, everything but the bus, but that didn't count. Still, one girl breaking out nine pop stars, using only batons and harry potter merch?

"If you sell the movie rights, I expect a cut of the profits." I joked.

"There is one thing I still don't know." He leaned in on his elbow, giving me the same kind of look he gave when he guessed I'd served in the military. It was a look only someone who'd been around the block a few times had, the one that listened to their gut more than their evidence file.

"What's that?" I asked uncomfortably.

"What was your exit strategy?"

Our final staring contest was interrupted by the door suddenly flying open, and both our surprised faces when an exquisitely dressed Asian man and a briefcase walked in.

"My client won't be saying another word." He had a high voice, but in a tall, 'I-own-this-building' sort of way. He also had impeccable timing because I was just about to throw myself at Hemingway and get locked up for life instead of answering that question.

"Your _client_?" Hemingway twisted around in his chair to gape at the intruder.

"Yes, I am her attorney."

"My _attorney_?" I shared Hemingway's surprise. As far as everyone here was concerned, I'd waived my right to counsel, and it wasn't like I had a lawyer on retainer to call anyway. Also, was he not like...nine hours late?

"Yes." The lawyer answered both of our questions, and then stepped back, gesturing for Hemingway to stand. He was jockeying for the detective's seat, and it was _quite_ the dismissal. Ernest was clearly offended, but not even he could sass at attorney-client privilege. So he stood with a huff, giving both of us the angry eye before marching out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Personally, I don't think it was fair, since all I'd been was compliant. But I supposed he was judging me by my company.

"Hey, I didn't-" I started to explain that I neither called an attorney, nor could I afford one, but the man held up a finger to silence me. We lingered in a choked quiet for several moments before I heard a soft ' _click'_ from the speakers in the ceiling, the flip of a switch. He had us wait for them to turn off the recorder before he grabbed Hemingway's abandoned chair and quickly made himself at home, as straight backed and formal as I was used to. The dreadful thought that he was an old friend of an old family I used to know crossed my mind and made me nervous, but I caught sight of a _Taegukgi_ pin on his fancy leather case, which only put that fear to rest and raised another one.

"You're Korean?" I established, whether he would silence me again or not would cost him his finger, and I hope the glare I shot him was enough to convey that.

"Very astute." He brushed off the accusation in my voice, unloading a file similar to Hemingway's, only instead of English, it was in squiggles. "I'm _South_ Korean, it that was your next question." He mused, carefully insulting me in the process.

" _It wasn't."_ I snapped. I don't know, I just figured, maybe it was common sense? I kidnap South Koreans, a South Korean lawyer shows up. Doesn't that just make sense? Which meant he was intentionally being an asshole. I knew lawyers were typically dastardly, all of the JAG stiffs could attest to that, but to their own clients even?

Better question: Was I even his client?

"Good," He continued through my glare, which was a considerable feat, "at least this conversation won't be as dull as it will be short."

"What is that supposed to mean?" I could feel the snob in me starting to rise up. I was too drained to deal with this, not after three hours of Hemingway's monotonous interrogation. It'd left me too brain dead to navigate safely through legal town. "Now, what did you tell him?" He asked, pen poised over paper.

"Are you even a real lawyer?" I blurted, because I mean, he hadn't even introduced himself and he was expecting me to launch into that whole story again just like that? I don't think so. Instead of answering, he plopped down his pen and went back into his bag for a small tablet that he propped up in front of me. "What the hell is this?"

"This," He sighed as he pushed the on button, "is your only chance. And yes," the screen filled with the face of another Asian man who smiled at me politely from behind a big desk, "I am a real lawyer. I'm just not yours." He leaned back in his stolen chair smugly as the tiny man on the screen called for my attention.

"Good afternoon, Ms. Harper." He greeted, folding his hands neatly on his tabletop; an unfamiliar outline of cityscape scrawling out the window behind him.

"Uhh, it's morning, and how do you know my name?" I looked between the tablet and the lawyer uncertainly. Which one was I supposed to look at?

"I've been hearing your name all day, and pardon my time zone difference. I've just had lunch. Did you have breakfast?" His tone was pleasant, like having a chat with an old friend. It irked me that he knew my name when not even Hemingway did. Was this man really better connected than America's finest?

"Oh yes," I rolled my eyes, "The LAPD served me a steaming bowl of incarceration, an eventful side of interrogation...and bad coffee." The tiny man laughed out loud, which I wasn't particularly fond of. My sarcasm wasn't supposed to be funny, it was supposed to be insulting damnit! "Who are you and what do you want?" I asked, just to stop him from laughing.

"My name is Kim Young-min, and I am the CEO of SM Entertainment." I was quick to put together the dots, but I still couldn't believe it. So soon? It hadn't even been twenty-four hours and here was the big boss, ready to finish me.

"Are you here to sue me or something?" I tried to put up a brave front, but in the back of my mind, I was shaking. How was I supposed to get out of this? This wasn't something my batons could fix. "Because, go right ahead. I got nothing-" Maybe if I played strong, they would think I was so. It was how I lived most of my life, fake it til you make it. But whatever anxiety I possessed was starting to come out on my brow.

"I believe the proper term is, 'I _have_ nothing'," He corrected my English, which was as funny as it was sad. I probably only laughed because I was so used to it. In Japan, they would correct me all the time, baffled by how I couldn't speak my own language, let alone another one. "But no, I'm not planning on taking any legal action against you in regards to the rescue of my employees yesterday."

"Rescue?" His choice of word was particular, and I didn't think he was the type to not prepare beforehand. He looked well groomed and powerful. Not like a man who was going to misuse a word that could very clearly take this from one side of the scale to the other.

"Of course!" He exclaimed. "The American branch of SM went too far! They were clearly acting on their own, without my authorization. What kind of animals refuse to let a friend attend their own mother's funeral?" I glanced at the lawyer, but he seemed completely uninterested in the exchange. Did he think it was outrageous? Because he seemed like the type who would keep someone from their mother's funeral…just saying.

"So it's the American's fault?" My lip curled at his explanation. " _How original._ " I mean, the whole world was blaming us for everything, why not tack on this as well?

"The _fault_ lies with me, as I am the head of the company." He emphasized ' _fault'_ like he was a little insulted I even insinuate he run his company any other way than wholesomely. "I'm not here to reprimand you, Ms. Harper. I'm here to reward you."

"Reward me?" I tested, but he nodded adamantly. "For kidnapping your employees?"

" _Rescuing_." He held up a finger in correction.

This had never happened to me before. I didn't know how to handle someone paying me when I was sure they were going to punish me. You're supposed to just go with stuff like that, right? I was still uncuffed, but it wasn't like I could fight him through the screen. Lawyer man though…

"Okay well, I like money." I threw out. It was worth a shot at least. He was offering, after all!

"I'd like for you to come work for us."

"Money and food-I'm sorry, what?" I was still listing the things I liked when he threw out that bombshell.

"I'm giving you the opportunity to move to South Korea and work for SM." He repeated himself, a smug grin on his thin lips.

"Um, how about a timeshare or something instead?" I chuckled nervously, a part of me already discouraged that I wasn't going to get a lump sum.

"We have a very lucrative benefits package." He sounded like the host on a game show, presenting me with what I could win if I picked the correct door. In this case though, he was only offering me one door. "We would pay for your relocation, plus your room and board for the life of your contract." Contract piqued my interest. There weren't very many jobs that required that kind of thing anymore, at least not in the fast food industry I'd been in for the last few months.

"And how long would that be exactly?" I asked, wondering if it was like the book I'd signed for the military.

"Thirteen years."

"THIRTEEN YEARS!" I shouted. The lawyer jumped, and I swear there was a tremor against the glass, like someone was ready to sprint in if they had to. "You are out of your damn mind!"

"I would go ahead and put in your two weeks' notice for you, but...you are unemployed. Quite frequently it seems." His eyes moved away from the camera, and to something else on his screen. Information of some sort that was undoubtedly about me. How could he know that I was jobless already? That only happened yesterday. They couldn't even have gotten me out of their system that quickly! I clamped my mouth shut, suddenly unsure of what I should or shouldn't say. I hated this type of thing, where you reveal everything about yourself in two or three little words. I wasn't the type to pick up on those, but apparently he was. Apparently this CEO Kim was a regular spy master.

"The world is quite a different place after coming home from war, isn't it?" He looked back at me, and the mood suddenly darkened.

"Go fuck yourself." I gritted. There was no way in hell I was going to follow him down that rabbit hole, not when he had absolutely no idea who I was, or what I'd gone through. Sure, every male in his country was required to serve, but it wasn't the same. He didn't have the blood of hundreds on his hands, or the nightmares to back them up. Who was he to pretend like he could compare? "The family we leave behind often put down their own struggles to help us take up ours." I reached forward and snatched the tablet from the table, and brought it right up to my eyes.

"Listen, whoever the fuck you are, if you so much as touch my family-"

"You should congratulate me, Ms. Harper." He cut me off, knowing he was perfectly safe to do so, which made me more pissed off and more powerless to do anything about it. "I am now the proud new owner of your mother's mortgage loan. It seems she is behind on a payment, or three." I dropped the tablet back to the table and stared dumb struck at his tiny manipulative face.

"What…" I knew my mother had been having some issues. It was difficult to be a single mom, and have an unplanned bird back in the nest. But I had no idea she was that far behind.

Or he could be lying. That was always an option.

"I could very easily transfer your first paycheck, which is considerable, to offset the balance. You'll find that I am a very generous credit company."

He had me and he knew it. It would take a sociopath to not agree to save their mother. While I did sometimes consider it, I cared way too much to tell the world to burn.

"How do I make you go away?" I said as lowly as I could. It felt horrid, playing like I had anything to bargain with when he clearly held all the cards and knew it.

"You come to Seoul." He said easily.

"And you'll leave my mother alone?" I clarified for no other reason than to hear him say it.

"Of course! And, if it makes it easier, I won't terminate EXO's contracts, and you can work with them." Those were the boys he was talking about, the boys I'd just jeopardized my freedom to save. They were called EXO. I remembered the faces that I'd put on that plane: Kyungsoo, Cheekbones, Bacon, the tall one, the cat-eyed kid, the sheep…the other tall one. EXO is what their fans chanted for them, it was who they were. And yet-

"Terminate their contracts?"

"Yes," He said it nonchalantly, not like destroying the boys that I would rather see content than not was beyond reproach, "I am perfectly within my rights to do so, with them refusing to perform and such. We lost millions."

"You are one twisted fuck, you know that, right?" I couldn't help myself, it sort of just slipped out. Seriously? He's putting up a false front by telling me he wants to reward me, then demands I move across the world, blackmails my mother to do it, and then says he'll throw in the futures of nine other people for giggles. He was demented!

"Do try to speak like a lady, Ms. Harper. You represent SM now. Lawyer Kwik will take you through the next steps, getting a visa and-" He started to arrange the things on his desk, and at his name, the attorney came to life. He shuffled papers around like a pro, and the briefcase was back, but I quickly held up both hands.

"Wait, I didn't say yes."

"But of course you did." CEO Kim returned knowingly. "You all but screamed for someone to save you from yourself. Why else would you have gone into that airport with no intention of leaving?"


	5. Chapter 5

**Pairing:** Do Kyungsoo / Harper Hasagawa (OC)

 **Current Chapter Rating:** PG

EXO wore standard suits to the funeral, not the commissioned Armani pieces their manager tried to push on them. Just black ties, jackets, and slacks; like what they wore to meet the president, only...this was more important.

The ceremony was a small, private affair, with just close friends and family. No fans, or news crews, or other idols telling Baek how sorry they felt while posing for Instagram. Mama Byun never shied away from her son's spotlight-the both of them could light up a room without meaning to-but it was by Mr. Byun's request. He wasn't ready, and EXO could tell just by looking at him that neither was Baekhyun. The mourner armband pinned to his sleeve looked like it weighed a million tons, and his whole being sank into the floor where he knelt to the side of the altar. Mr. Byun was in the same condition, and each of the members eyed the pair wearily as they went in to pay their respects.

When the rite was over, they all went back to Baekhyun's home in Bucheon and showered him with as much love and affection as they could. It helped that the atmosphere upon their return to South Korea had been resoundingly welcome and compassionate. Even the American and Mexican fans, whose shows had been cancelled, took to Tumblr and Twitter with vigor. Every post was a praise, encouragement, a promise, condolences. They got their money back, so it wasn't a big deal, they said. And the boys were home safe, which was all that they cared about. With this much love and support, it was easy to forget that they were about to be fired. CEO Kim himself had called a meeting as soon as it was socially acceptable, and it was a nagging worm of a though in the back of their minds, that even after everything: Only artist to debut at #1 on Gaon weekly album chart for 10 consecutive album releases, most Music Show Wins for a male group, most Daesang Awards for a group, bestselling artist in Korea for four years in a row, not to mention their title as Quadruple Million sellers…they were still slaves to the papers they'd signed as teenagers.

The next Monday morning, EXO and their manager entered the CEO office suites. It was the first time some of them had been there in years, with a few exceptions of course. Baekhyun had been summoned there before his breakup with SNSD's Taeyeon (which some found suspicious), Xiumin after his dangerous weight loss hit the news, and Lay...really a lot of times Lay. The rest of them though, admired the polished black tile, the tastefully gold decor, and the bright view the balcony behind the huge mahogany desk afforded. The man himself sat behind it until they entered. He stood gracefully and carefully buttoned the bottom button of his jacket, while his secretary ushered EXO to sit in the conference area. Traditionally, it was a circle of ten or so chairs, with a low coffee table in the middle. CEO Kim sat at the head, while EXO automatically arranged themselves from oldest to maknae. Suho sat at the right hand of the CEO, Minseok on the left and so forth down the line. The seat at the opposite end, the one beside Kyungsoo, remained empty. Even when manager tried to take it, CEO Kim waved him off, saying he was saving it (which really should have been their first indication that something suspicious was about to happen).

"Gentlemen, thank you for coming." He started off pleasantly: words of encouragement and condolences, he'd sent a flower arrangement, did they like it, and so on. His easy manner was deceptive, and any of the members who'd dealt with him in the past knew it. He had a reputation for wearing a warm mask while hiding a cold and calculating mind underneath. He like to disarm his prey before destroying them. It didn't seem like a fair fight to EXO, and what's worse is that they saw it coming. They braced for impact with each word he spoke, expecting each one to be their last, until finally...touch down.

"And to the matter at hand...boys, you violated your contracts." He stated their demise as casually as when he offered his commiserations. Apparently, the fact that they collectively had more than 23 individual awards, 12 nominations, and made the company more money than any of the other group, meant nothing if you cost them a single cent.

"CEO Kim, sir, with all due respect," Suho put every ounce of politeness into his voice that he could, as he tried (for the first time in his life) to contradict an authority figure, "I think this is a special circumstance. Baekhyun had every right to attend his mother's funeral and-" But he only got so far before Kim cut him off.

"The only rights you have are those designated to you by your contracts." The statement was as perverse as it was accurate. Their contracts were outlined down to the last detail: what they could eat, how they would dress, what they could and couldn't stay, who they could love, who they should hate. There's no room for opinions in a group that was tailor made. The perfect example of this was during KoKoBop with Kai's dreads. Eries absolutely hated them, and questioned why he would choose to get them again, when in reality, he had no choice in the matter at all.

"We understand that we caused the company immense hardship, and we are deeply sorry for that," Suho pushed through because...his world was crumbling. What else was he supposed to do? Let his group fall apart? At the height of their careers? "But you must see-"

"What I see," CEO Kim made it perfectly clear that this wasn't a discussion, it wasn't up for debate. This was happening. It was the consequence of their actions. "Is that EXO is in need of a rescue once again." A sly smirk slid across his face that made Suho's skin crawl. "Let's see if we can find you a savior."

CEO Kim gestured to the door that swung open like it had been waiting, an after a moment, the boys all heard something they never thought they would hear again: the distinct pitter patter of certain combat boots that had absolutely no reason to be in Seoul.

The security guard Kunwoo led Harper into the office by her arm. She was handcuffed and in the same exact clothes she'd worn during their rescue nearly a week ago. Kunwoo was out for blood, probably because Harper broke his brother's jaw, and it was evident in the tight grip he had on her elbow, how even when she tried to jerk free, he held fast. And then there was the way he shoved her down into that last empty seat CEO Kim had apparently saved just for her. But what made it most obvious was her fat bloody lip that she edged her tongue against, while glaring absolute daggers at her captor.

"EXO," CEO Kim sat back in his armchair and crossed his legs, looking like he'd just won a chess match, "I assume you all remember Ms. Hasagawa." At her name, she turned her glare on the rest of them, although restrained, and then on the CEO, who she really let have it.

In all honesty, Kyungsoo never expected to see her again. Although, that's what he thought the first time too. She just kept popping back up into his world at the most random moments. Especially now as she readjusted herself into the seat next to him. When she looked at him, her gaze softened, but not by much. She was still as feral as when she'd stabbed a guy to free him. Only now, she was a wild animal in chains, stalking her captor with her glare.

After letting the shock sink in for a moment, CEO waved his magic fingers again, and Kunwoo produced a black leather bound folder. It carried with it its own heady weight, the potential of a hundred different futures. It was a contract, and everyone knew it. Just like the ones EXO was about to be fired for breaking.

The air tensed as the folder opened, a pen appeared, and all of it was dumped in Harper's lap. She eyed it, but wasn't surprised by it, and that's when Kyungsoo realized what she'd already done.

He jumped to his feet, making everyone stop holding their breath and stare at him instead. His mind raced a thousand miles a second as he braved a step out of line.

'Find them a savior'? This was all theater, the deal had already been made. Did she have any idea what she was signing? Or what it even said? She couldn't speak Korean, so she sure as hell couldn't read Hangul, yet here she was, not batting an eye. She just stared at him like he'd popped a blood vessel and she wasn't entirely sure if he was okay or not.

"Sit down, Do Kyungsoo." CEO Kim ordered boredly. When he didn't immediately comply, Kunwoo gently but firmly came over and pushed his shoulders back down.

When everyone was where he wanted them to be, Kim began his explanation, although hardly anyone could believe it.

"Once you sign, Ms. Harper, you will be a contracted employee of SM Entertainment, and assigned as primary security to EXO." Ears perked at the mention of not firing the boys, and no one knew where to look after that. Were they supposed to look at Harper and beg, or at CEO Kim and wonder what the hell he was thinking? Harper, in turn, wouldn't look up from the contract in her cuffed hands or meet Kyungsoo's insistent face.

She couldn't really be considering this, could she? She knew nothing of Kpop, or even his world in general. She was an American, some kind of soldier who had no business being their guard.

"Harper-" He called her name in the otherwise quiet room, and it sounded like he shouted. She finally looked up at him, really looked at him, pen poised over the dotted line.

Whatever deal she struck with Kim was not going to be worth it. It was too much, she was giving too much of herself for them, for their sakes. She would be miserable for the next decade if she signed that contract.

"I hope…" She said tightly, flexing her fingers around the pen, "I hope this makes us even."

"Don't!"

Kyungsoo lept for the pen as she put the tip to paper, but he didn't get far as Chanyeol grabbed him by the arm and pulled him back down into his seat.

Harper scribbled messily, and when she was past the point of no return, she shoved the folder off her lap with a look of disgust. It flopped onto the coffee table, the other loose papers floating around, as everyone sat, waiting. Right on top was her signature, only...instead of her name, it read 'FUCK YOU' in beautifully written calligraphy.

CEO Kim leaned forward in his seat just enough to see it before sitting back, still smug, still victorious despite the disrespect.

"It's still legally binding." He smirked.

"I know." She answered darkly. It was obviously just going to be her nature to spurn all authority. Satisfied with his him, Kim waved his hand and Kunwoo came to grab Harper again. He dragged her right out of the office, and she didn't look back.

"Where are you taking her?" Junmyeon quickly asked before Kyungsoo, who Chanyeol still had a firm grip on, made a scene.

"To her room, of course. I'm sure she has an awful lot of unpacking to do." CEO Kim stood, fastening the bottom button of his expensive jacket again.

The chess match was over.

My Whole life fit into one ruck sack, and that fact was only made more depressing as the pushy guard threw me in my 'room' and I tripped over said sack. He cursed at me in Korean before slamming the heavy door and leaving me to regret pretty much my every life decision.

After the interrogation, Lawyer Kwik lived up to his name and had me released the next day. From there, we were joined by the security team I'd beat up and hitched a train ride home...my home.

Kwik let me call my mom on the way, but I spared her the messy details. All I needed from her was to find the bag of stuff I'd tried to bury behind the shed in the backyard. Looking back now, I should have burned the sack, but I guess deep down, maybe I knew I'd need it again.

When the team of angry Asians and I pulled up to the house, Mom was standing on the stoop, the ruck packed at her feet, wringing her hands like she was choking the life out of something. Lawyer Kwik told me to make it fast, so I wasted no time in throwing myself into her arms. Studies show that a mother's embrace has the same effect as relaxation techniques or tranquilizers. It slows the heartbeat, and makes it so we can think when things are going insane.

"Oh Harper," She crooned as she squeezed me tight, "Where have you been? What is happening?"

"It's okay, mom. Everything's fine." I muttered into her shoulder.

"Are they-" She began but I quickly shook my head.

"They're Korean."

"Korean? But why?" She took my shoulders and push me out to where she could look me in the eye. My mother was a smart woman, so there was no point in lying. She would figure out the truth eventually. She was more of a detective than Hemingway was.

"It's a long story." I admitted, reaching down to grab the sack. I hated how familiar it felt, and how my muscles suddenly remembered how to lift things. "But I promise I'll be okay. I just have to go away for a while."

"Where?" She asked that dreaded question, and I held back a bitter huff.

"East."

We flew first class, which was nice. Like nicer than nice. The last plane I traveled in was a bulky C-130, where I slept between relief supply crates. Now I had pretty flight attendants offering me champagne. Lawyer Kwik, who unfortunately occupied the seat next to mine, slapped my hand when I tried to take the offer.

"What? She said it was included!" I griped, crossing my arms childishly. He could at least let me get drunk if I was going to throw my life away anyway.

"This is not a vacation!" He barked, looking cautiously at the other passengers in first class to make sure they hadn't noticed his outburst.

"What do you expect me to do for ten hours?" I clapped back.

"Sit still and be quiet." He hissed and then, I assume because he couldn't stand the sight of me, jammed his thumb on the button to roll up the privacy divider. It wasn't as satisfying to stick my tongue out at the neutral brown screen, but I did it anyway. Then I waved down the attendant with the alcohol.

All in all, I think I watched three movies, slept a little, got up with the excuse to use the bathroom a thousand times, and downed possibly an entire bottle of airplane wine.

I was asleep when we landed; the loud rushing air and violent not-crash being too familiar to startle me. They were not what woke me. It was a pair of handcuffs closing around my wrist. They jolted me from a dreamless sleep into fight mode faster than gunfire or the call for the chow line. I jerked to leap from the chair, but the seatbelt nearly tore me in half. I turned furiously to see who it was I was about to murder, but Lawyer Kwik just stared at me like I was an idiot. He took no pleasure in latching the opposite cuff to his own wrist, and then groused at me, "Per our agreement with the Americans, you can't be wandering off until you sign a contract of employment."

"So you cuff me!?" I shrieked, making him wince.

"You are not officially our problem yet, and I won't have you ruining it before we even get off the plane!" He pulled me by the wrist, and I followed like a dog on a leash. I dragged my feet as much as I could justify, but Kwik was being quick again. He hauled me out of the airport and straight into a waiting van, the kind you see ferrying around giant families of religious homeschoolers. He didn't even stop for my luggage, just something about people getting it for us. We drove to the United States Embassy in Seoul where instead of me meeting with my own ambassador, Kwik did all the talking for me. They stuck me in a cookie cutter hotel room in the consulate where I spent the next few days like a POW. They gave me food and said it would be perfectly fine if I wanted to go on short walks around the building, but there was always a guard stationed outside my door. The only notable thing I did while in lockup was try to get ahold of an old companion I met in Japan. If she was still in the region, it would be nice to have a friendly face nearby. But I never got any confirmation.

Nearly a week after the rescue, Lawyer Kwik finally came back for me. He waltzed in with an air about him, like I was supposed to be happy to see him and not feel like they'd shelved me until I was useful. The guard Kwik brought with him was a particularly large brute who openly glared at me for no reason. He cinched the cuffs on my wrist extra tight, to the point where I was sure there would be marks once they were off, and gripped my upper arm with a vengeance. I pondered who shoved a giant stick up his ass, and then debated if he was the guy I actually did shove a stick into…but he wasn't. We loaded back up into Kwik's convoy of grandma vans and set out for what I presumed was our final destination.

Seoul is a vibrant city, with tall skyscrapers, and beautiful greenery on the banks of the river the capital was built on. The streets were crowded with people going about their day: business men and women in their perfectly pressed suits, regular people with bundles of shopping bags, kids in uniforms running to school.

"What even is today?" I asked out loud. Stick man didn't even acknowledge my presence, but Lawyer Kwik in the front seat threw back 'Monday'.

I wondered if EXO got to have their funeral, and if it was small or if it had been televised. My first impression of them had been decent, despite the circumstances. They seemed like a good group of dudes, and I doubted they would put something like that on display, even as idols.

The vans pulled off the main road into an alley that was crowded with people. Girls upon girls upon girls perked up when the vans came into sight, and started to rush the street. Alarmed, I glanced out each window, wondering what was going on, but the guard grabbed my shoulder and shoved me back down. When I tried to push off his grip, he swiped his other hand across my face. Hard. I was so taken back by the suddenness of it that I didn't have time to block or even react. I gaped at him, and then at Kwik who just turned back around, not even close to doing anything about it. With my back to the door, I was this close to booting him in the face and turning this into a close-quarters situation, but the van made it through the mob of girls, and through the gate beside a tall skinny building.

"We're here." Kwik said nonchalantly as we pulled into a space next to a small guard shack. The door behind me opened, and big hands dragged me out to my feet. I scowled at the guard who hit me as he came around the van to take lead, and plotted to maybe push him down the stairs or something. The screams from the girls on the street died down once they saw who was getting out. I was obviously not who they wanted. Not long after that, the shit show that was my contract signing happened, and I was thrown in another prison cell, this time, somewhere in the bowels of the SM Entertainment headquarters.

Never in a million years would he admit that he'd been sneaking down to the dorms to see her. And it wasn't sneaking…he clearly had a bone to pick. If it wasn't right then, it would be the next day or the next. But the sooner he told her, the better. If he waited too long, she might think that they were actually even.

He hadn't planned on being seen though. Nor had he anticipated the company. Kyungsoo had gotten stuck with Baekhyun in the elevator, so that was unavoidable. But when they awkwardly exited on the same floor (the trainee dorm floor), Junmyeon had trotted out of the stairwell beside the elevator without a care in the world. When he saw his other members, he'd spun on his heels and tried to go back the way he came…but the door closed on him. At that point it was obvious and he accepted his defeat with a shy smile, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly.

Those two, Kyungsoo understood their desire to see her. Baek probably wanted to thank her for getting him home in time for his mother's funeral. No one could dispute the fact that they wouldn't have gotten home without her, and there was no way she was going to lose that fight with SM and she made sure they all knew it. So that made sense. And even Suho being there could be justified: he was their hyung, their leader, and Harper had single handedly saved EXO not once, but twice now. Junmyeon probably came down to dedicate his life to her for signing her's away.

So yes, Kyungsoo felt he understood his hyungs' reasoning. It was the others he didn't expect. Minseok and Yixing contently stepped off the elevator after his and Baek's. They'd probably mashed the button not two seconds after the door had closed the first time. Although, those two were a little more forthcoming with their approach. When they saw the three boys standing outside the elevator staring at each other awkwardly, they easily bowed in, joining the growing group and adding to Kyungsoo's ire.

He didn't want to yell at a girl in front of his brothers, but you do what you gotta do.

"I guess you're here to see her too?" Junmyeon asked Minseok and Yixing, who nodded. "It sure would be great if we knew something about her besides her name." He jeered at Kyungsoo. It was supposed to be jokingly, but it was really just petty.

She'd shown up too many times for it to be coincidence or a Good Samaritan, and she made it clear to everyone that she and Kyungsoo knew each other by her declaration in the conference room earlier. It was obvious that the two of them had history, but D.O. wasn't so sure it would do him any good to tell his members the truth, especially not if she was going to stick around. The image of her kneeling on the white shale, the ocean in the background, and the crash of the sea sloshed around in his head, clashing against the thought of her stabbing someone in front of him. Her eyes were the same color as the water, and they'd never dulled, not in the six months that it had been since he first met her. But now she was back, she was here, and she'd just inserted herself in a way that was unacceptable. Instead of answering Suho's question, Kyungsoo spun on his heels and stomped down the hall.

The trainee dorms were not normally very crowded, usually reserved for those who were from different parts of Korea, or different countries all together. Regardless, it was safe to say that it wasn't hard to find which room Harper had been assigned. All the other doors in the dorm were open, giving EXO a front row seat to trainee life again. A pair of Thai boys who had won the most recent Produce 101 were practicing their Korean in the room across from the only shut door on the hall. They glanced up at EXO and bowed casually before going back to their Hangul.

"Hey Soo, isn't this your old room?" Minseok commented, and the irony of it slapped him right in the face. For a moment, the five of them stood in front of the door, and all eyes were on Kyungsoo's back, expecting him to be the one to knock. But he was too busy trying to figure out what to say.

'Thank you for getting us out of LA? You're really scary when you fight. Why did you come for me? It wasn't like you owe me. How could you sign that contract? Are you insane? How could you think this made us even?'

Taking on the whole burden of their contract was tipping the scales too far. He'd never be able to repay her, and that upset him even more. He was going to live his whole life in this girl's shadow, and he couldn't decide if he was truly furious, or glad.

Junmyeon's sigh snapped Kyungsoo back to reality as Suho stretched his arm around the frozen boy and knocked on the door, "What have you gotten us into?"

It was quiet for a moment as they all listened for her response.

"Go away." A female voice chimed in English, and whatever appreciation D.O. had felt towards her was stripped away by her rudeness. He pounded on the door next, fist against wood making a scene in the hallway. "I don't speak Korean and I don't feel like playing charades!" She yelled from inside, and he'd had enough. He threw open the door and barged in.

It was a sparse white cinderblock room. An armoire and a sink were closest to the door, and two twin size beds were pushed up against either wall with a desk between them. Harper was perched delicately on the table, leaning up against the window that only opened a crack. She was hugging her knees and pressing her face against the glass, like outside was the only source of oxygen. She was wearing those same dark jeans she'd burst down the door in, but her shirt was gone and she sat only in a sports bra.

All the rage in Kyungsoo's head rushed to his cheeks when he saw her stomach and cleavage. Not just that, he saw the unnatural color of a tattoo snake up her back and over her left shoulder. It looked like the painted branch of a cherry blossom tree, with pink petals growing every few centimeters of skin. Poking out from under the line of her bra looked like the bottom of a letter or character, but he couldn't see it clearly, nor did he want to.

She hadn't jumped when the door flew open, or sprang up to cover herself. It was like she couldn't care less that he saw, and the slow way she regarded them made him self-conscious.

She turned her head sluggishly to take in the intruders, blinking heavily. Her eyes were only a shade pinker than white, which made him think she'd been crying…or had been about to cry, although any traces of sadness were blunted over with her expression.

As well she should, Kyungsoo thought. What an idiotic thing she'd done. Maybe the realization was just now hitting her. Maybe now she was seeing her error for what it was: permanent. Thirteen years! She'd scribbled her name on a document she couldn't read and willingly thrown herself into servitude for thirteen years…for him. To be even. It was enough to make him panic.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" He snapped back to himself, figuring he might as well do what he came here to do.

"Plenty." She mumbled and turned back to the window. Her dismissal was even more insulting than he like of decorum.

"Do you even know what you've done?" He demanded, trying way too hard to get a reaction out of her.

"Pretty sure I saved your career." She shrugged, her breath fogging on the window pane.

"You just threw your life away!" He yelled, "For nothing!" She turned back to him then. Her eyebrows scrunched together as she took him in: his clenched fists, his eyes that were too insistent, his friends who were probably standing behind him awkwardly. He wasn't going to be able to make her see if his stance was so weak, but still…he came to yell.

"You seem far more upset about that than I figured you would." She said, finally giving him her full attention. It felt like an audition, and he wasn't about to mess it up.

"He would never have fired us." Kyungsoo listed, "We're his biggest money makers. Punish us maybe, but he wouldn't have fired us. You did a useless thing."

"Okay, but are we even, though?" She asked quietly, the storm brewing behind her nearly drowning her out. Lightning flashed, illuminating her purple; the color of otherworldly things. In that moment she looked more like the battle angel that saved them than the girl who-

"No." He answered when the flash was gone and reality set back in. Her eyes ticked up to his face from where they'd been staring at his hands. Why was she looking at his hands?

"What more could you want?" Her voice seemed surprised, but he felt like he had no time for this game. How could she not realize that she' tilted the scale too far in her favor for him to ever repay?

"Go back to Kim in the morning and break the contract."

"Soo…" Junmyeon threw his disapproval into the ring while at the same time reminding Kyungsoo that they had an audience.

"There's a 24-hour recant clause. If you go there first thing in the morning-" He tried to explain, ignoring Suho's warning face, but-

"There is?" Yixing interjected, and the conversation derailed from there. Kyungsoo failed to contain his face palm as his members, people he called brothers, discussed the finer points of their own personal contracts while simultaneously devolving into butt jokes. It was all going horrifically wrong until a new sound joined, and then overtook their bickering:

Laughter.

She was laughing at them. "You look like a flock of birds!" She hollered, big ugly belly laughs, nearly knocking her off her perch on the table. The other boys stopped complaining long enough to stare at her, open mouthed. It wasn't everyday they were laughed at. Pointed at, loved on, cheered for, but never laughed at. "Like chickens! Or pigeons! Peck peck pecking at each other!" It was then that Kyungsoo remembered that she couldn't speak Korean, and while he'd spoken with her in English, Suho had been translating for the boys. In the midst of the discussion however, they'd almost reverted to their dialects like they were in the cafeteria fighting over the last bowl of black bean noodles. To her, they probably did look like a little pack of blabbering fools.

"You asked to be even." Kyungsoo tried his best to bring everything back into focus. "That will make us even." She came down from her laugh slowly, wiping fake tears from her eyes.

"How will going back on my promise to protect you make us square?" She asked the question casually, but there was an edge to her voice, a threat somewhere that he couldn't quite see or comprehend yet.

So he matched it.

"Because you don't belong here."

"Do Kyungsoo!" Baekhyun cried and grabbed his arm. He was suddenly swallowed by the group of boys and herded towards the door, apparently not allowed to say another word on the matter. Of course it didn't matter that she had no manners to speak of, but heaven forbid he not use his! "I'm so sorry!" Baekhyun bowed to Harper while Suho translated. "Please don't listen to him, he's just under a lot of stress!"

"I mean...he's not wrong." Harper bit her lip, like she was trying to hide a smile, which made Kyungsoo even more…whatever he was feeling at the moment. Was he still mad, or was he just annoyed? Annoyed that she didn't listen to him, or annoyed that it felt like she was doing this to spite him?

"We are eternally grateful for what you did for us in LA. Especially me, because...you got me home in time to say goodbye." Baekhyun spoke very carefully, barely able to talk about his mother's death. Suho kept giving him sidelong glances as he translated, and Harper had enough sense to see his discomfort. "And so...and so..." Baek fiddled with his hands before taking one brave step forward to stress his point, "you should do what Kyungja said: break the contract and be able to go home."

Kyungsoo couldn't help but roll his eyes, that of all the important moments, Baekhyun was using the nickname he'd given him when they were trainees.

Harper took a long moment to respond, giving each of them a hard look like she did on the bus in LA. Kyungsoo wanted to know what she was thinking, if Baekhyun's sincere argument was going to get through to her, but she took a deep breath and sighed.

"You guys remind me a lot of the men I used to lead: dumb and pretty, "...but strong and kind." She added. "I haven't formally introduced myself to you, but if there's one thing you should know about me, it's that I never go back on my word." She swung her legs over the side of the table and stood before them. "So Gentlemen, like it or not, my name is Harper Hasagawa, and I'm going to be your bodyguard for the next thirteen blissful years."


End file.
